


Punishments

by Consarn



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pokemon Mystery Dungeon
Genre: Adventure, Friendship, Gen, Hunt, M/M, Magic, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 11:19:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 91,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4477346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Consarn/pseuds/Consarn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The escape of an imprisoned scapegoat becomes a journey of rediscovery for six Pokemon from different backgrounds. One thing brings them together in this bid spun by destiny: they are all being Punished. And they would risk everything to find a way out. </p><p>Experience the world of Pokèterra, a completely unique realm with its own lore and history, based on the Mystery Dungeon series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lu & Tobi

P.S: This is not just a story. It's my attempt at building a world from nearly the ground up. Any notes or alternations to Pokémon are marked by an asterisk: (*). They're intended to be read at the end. If you don't, there might be a disappointing chapter spoiler.

It was hunger that drove the stag into the clearing.

Winter had reduced the nearby trees into skeletons of their spring glory. Knots of spindly twigs lined the edges of the clearing. These were called shrubs, once. Bilberry shrubs, far more adaptable than their blueberry brothers, were the last to go. Even in the sun-washed clearing, the vestige had ceased to grow.

The stag brayed with frustration. He gnawed on some twigs. Their cloying texture were a challenge for his empty stomach - there had to be something better. If this became his fourth barren morning, there wouldn't be strength in his body to encounter a fifth. There had to be more, if the stag only risked foraging for it.

Two hooves pounded into a mound of snow. Nothing. Another try, this time into some snow packed around a tree stump. A green strap tangled itself around his hoof. He ripped his leg out of the snag, dragging a satchel made of fine deer-leather into the open. Silver twinkled from an opened part of its flap; the lid of an extravagant compass. It was a warning. Tragically, one a mundane animal couldn't understand.

If he had, the stag wouldn't have kept foraging. Left of the bag was a grave-like pile - he chose to dig there next. All the digging might attract predators. But the stag didn't care anymore; he was starving, and digging beat eating twigs.

He wouldn't need to choose for much longer. Two strikes into the new pile exposed a new scent. It was like wood left out in the sun... simmering, not burnt, with intensity enough to make the stag snort... and mystery enough to make him investigate. He drummed into the pile with newfound eagerness. A muffled *clop* told him he had hit something. He stooped over to see his prize.

It looked like another strap, at first. Then its eyes shot open and the rest of its head pulled loose from the snow. The ferocity of the creature shocked the stag. He stood frozen in place, eyes wide and staring at the place where the creature had been. It wasn't the two great fangs burrowing into his chest that forced him into action. The maddening warmth of the predator coiled about his body was so nice compared to the breeze. That warmth threw his mind into a panic and instincts forced him onto his hind legs.

His head craned around to ensure that it fell. Its blue tail went rigid with effort, but it refused to fall. It continued to seize control of its mark; another large fang stabbed into his back, it seemed to protrude from the attacker's chest; its head had a set of teeth which tangled into the flesh on his neck; muscled legs tied down his own thighs. How did this creature have so many fangs?

Once he had no choice but to fall back on all fours, the defense proved to be his undoing. The spikes in his lower chest denied him control of his own front legs. The creature would refer to his chest as a brisket. Too tired to struggle any longer, the stag relied on the last few impulses that still made sense. He marched forward a couple feet by pushing his body forward with his hind legs. Then he died.

The predator sniffled as it rose back to its feet. Its eyes caught those of its meal's and stayed there while the last of the snow on its pelt either fell away or melted. After a better look at the competition, the outcome of the attack was obvious. This mundane animal stood little chance against a Sent*.

The thick lucario* could look over the stag's back when it was standing, and towered over it now that it lay bleeding on the ground. It cocked its head to the side and closed the gap between them. Its breaths seemed to heave in and out, churning the air like charcoal thrown into an engine. The giant breaths needed to keep the great machine alive left puffs of smoke in the air. Finally, after one of these puffs, it spoke.

"You scared me!" she said. Even alive, the stag wouldn't understand her higher speech. Knowing this, she howled out of respect as she threw the corpse over her shoulders. The heavy weight pushed her into a strained slump. "Without my friend to make a fire, I might need to eat you raw." She shook her head. "I don't like that at all. It's been almost a week since he went out. Where could he be?"

The tracks from the deer's legs brushed over the small dimples made by her toes. She paused, as though her morning catch could object to some small talk. "It's funny. I was sound asleep until you kicked me in the head. Maybe it's not so funny for you... where am I dragging you to, anyway?" There wasn't anywhere to go.

She threw the stag down and plopped backward into the snow. Her feet were long and thick, the boniness typical to her breed covered by muscle. Only her toes touched the ground when she stood. When she sat down, her full length relaxed on the ground, and she sat like a dog would. "I see now," she whispered. A paw moved back and forth over the deer's ribs. "You didn't have much choice." The crackle of a broken rib caused her to pull back.

"I know it's weird to talk to mundane animals - or anything dead, really... but who's gonna make fun of me? I bet you'd like to, but you can't!" She smiled naughtily. If her friend was here, she'd never hear the end of it. "My name is Lu. Loo: two letters. Isn't it a nifty name? Lu is a nickname for my breed, lucario." No answer. "I'm waiting for my friend, Tobi. He's really funny. He makes me wear a ribbon..." the goldenrod ribbon she showed him was now bloodied from the struggle. "Because other Sents that see us think we're together, and that he's the girl." No answer. "Isn't that funny?" Surprisingly, for a third time, there was no answer. "Gah, this is boring too!" Conversations were boring when only one member could actually speak.

Lu abandoned her kill and roamed about the clearing. Over the last six days, she'd walked around it enough to form a rut around the edges. Of course, it had to be covered up every night. Mundane animals would realize that the clearing was occupied if she didn't. "He could be dead. Tobi went out to swindle supplies from the Punishers, and they don't forgive things like that." It was empty talk; Tobi had stolen from the Punishers a million different ways. Still, the talk of it made Lu's eyes misty. After traveling by his side for years, the idea of parting without a goodbye left her profoundly scared.

The struggle had exposed their satchel, hidden under snow and laid against a stump. Lu walked over and took out the compass. Just touching it reminded her of Tobi's scrappy voice.

"This isn't a toy you can gnaw on," he had told her. As if she could mistake it for one. In fact, she hated the gaudy chunk of silver.

In the case that he didn't return, he had left it adjusted. She only needed to match the arrow on the compass to the one on the glass. That would lead her West-northwest to Six-burrow. For a sizable town it did well for itself, even during the Winter. The place had a chilly waterfall, and Lu never passed up a chance to swim. But Tobi had wasted his time adjusting the bezel. Lu wasn't going anywhere until he returned.

Maybe, though, a brief trip to Six-burrow wouldn't hurt. The original settlement was a system of tunnels dug into the side of a hill, not on the flat land next to it. Some tunnels were still unexplored to the present day. Thinking about it got Lu excited. "You know what?" Lu said to herself. "I'll trade the stag for entry into the tunnels. I'll explore them and get to keep whatever I find - maybe I'll find gold and make Tobi rich. It's his turn to wait in the clearing for me!" The independence sounded exhilarating.

"My turn to do what, now?"

Lu nearly broke the compass as she toppled over herself. For a moment Lu thought the stag had finally started to talk back. Yet it wasn't a revived stag: it was Tobi! The exertion of his six-day trek had reduced him somewhat, giving him a rugged look she wasn't used to. But a single look at his face and all his delicate features were accounted for. The deadness of the forest hardly became the spritely braixen.

"Tobi!" She ran forward to embrace him.

He huffed and held her back. "Spikes, Lu... watch the spikes." Along with the fangs on her arms, Lu had one more jutting from the chest. The first two were usually more than enough, so she often forgot about the third. There was a strong oily smell on his breath, his head pointed downward in an attempt to keep it downwind.

"Sheesh," he said, spotting the mess. "What'd you bag today? Please tell me it's something huge, judging by the mess it made." Tobi sounded strange. Tired, yet also anxious, in a happy way. Like he could hardly stand that he had to rest before unloading the news of his adventure. He had a Punisher's cloak, colored royal purple with green corners, draped around his back. That surprised her, because the grunt's cape he had six days ago was black and gold.

The eager lucario presented the kill. "Ta-da: A stag!"

"Oh, attagirl, you're a lifesaver. I'll get the fire started, you sort out the rest." He lumbered over to the soggy wood in the middle of their clearing. The stick buried in the fur of his tail nearly poked him in the eye as he brought it over. The jagged twig itself wasn't magic. Yet the conduit, held in the capable hands of the braixen, ignited the soggy wood with a single pass-over. His head was on a calm swivel, too tired to realize he couldn't see through the trees.

They cut out the easiest parts of the stag first. After a hearty meal, Tobi asked for a second helping. Lu's blunt paws had some trouble piecing it together, and she couldn't resist mentioning that he looked plumper already. The humble creature curled up to hide his gut.

He unfurled in an instant. The bone still in his hand flew straight out and into the trees. "Got news," he rambled. "Riveting stuff... super cool... pass me another..." he scrunched up and fell asleep by the fire. Lu didn't hold it against him; after six days, being close was enough. The fire helped too.

By midday, Tobi was nearly himself again. The trials of his long trip disappeared. Every hair on his body seemed to be exactly where it ought to.

"Hiya!" he yelped. "Lu, Lu, Lu, you're not going to believe what happened."

"I won't?"

He ruffled her head with a claw. "Well, uh, I mean... you will once I tell you. But it's amazing, Lu!" The magic stick whipped over the fading fire, relighting it. "So I went to swindle some money from the Punishers, right?" Lu nodded. "So I fall into line with perhaps the dumbest herdier I think I've ever met. He's a purebred Atlasan. Likely some meathead whelp from Mr. and Mrs. Meathead, who no one has worked up the courage yet to call stupid beyond belief. Well, they tell commanders like that way too much. So when clever foxes like me get into the pen, it's all bound to leak out. Along with other things," he added, patting the green cloak, "they probably shouldn't be giving up."

"Huh." Lu knew what that meant: Tobi had intoxicated the herdier... and odds are, himself. Acquiring things for their survival was good. Going out of his way to make commanders look incompetent could end up getting the braixen killed. He was the definition of scrappy, but even Tobi couldn't outwit a group of Punishers. That, along with the fact Tobi went sixfold over his promised time out... Lu started to become a little angry.

"Yeah," he said somberly. "I know. But listen to this, okay? Roake is free."

The news pushed the air out of her. "Free? As in..."

"As in the Roakens shafted the Atlasans. The Atlasans here in Orchidia didn't even know until Roake started shipping back Punishers. Seriously. Like they just up and said thanks but no thanks." Tobi began to shake with excitement.

No Atlas influence meant no Punishers. No Punishers meant an end to sacrifices. Lu wondered how all the Roakens felt, no longer living in fear of being Punished simply because Arceus demanded it. Atlas had Pokéterra under its control for so long, independence didn't even seem possible. She tried hard to keep angry at Tobi. The news was just too uplifting!

Tobi continued. "The Punishers I fell in with are headed East, to the shoreline. Meathead claims they're creating a defensive line - without Sents being Punished, the Ferals and natural crises will start back up in Roake. Yeah, whatever. The real reason is to keep hopefuls from heading over there. Roakens are way too smart to up and do this without a plan."

"Right! They must have a reason!" Lu exclaimed.

"Okay, cool it on the tail. You're going to sweep up the whole damned forest." She wiggled in the snow. Let the forest be swept up! Her happiness curbed when Tobi's smile began to fold. "We also have bigger fish to fry, Lu. There's a kid about to be Punished. Whoa - easy breaths, Lu. Stay calm."

Eyes wide, she responded, "How could I?!" Tobi was rarely this foolish. How could he not mention this first? How could he take a nap? "You dope, we have to save the kid!"

He helped push her paw back and forth in the snow until she began to soothe herself with the movement. "They're looking for the charmander, but he disappears into the forest every day. His den mother came bursting into their inn this morning, claiming that some of her snots returned from the kid's house looking wretched. Apparently the charmander has been tampering with spirit welding. Ancient stuff..."

Much like martial arts, spirit welding* was a culmination of various powers inherent in all Sents. Atlasans worked ceaselessly to ensure it was an art reserved to their own bloodlines. Even more so. An ability to imbue those powers to everyday objects could change the balance of the world, especially if it became commonplace. The Punishments, nonetheless, had dwindled the need for both to near-extinction in common villages. For a mere child to learn spirit welding was incredible twice over.

"It took me a bit longer than I hoped," he added guiltily. If he hadn't come loaded with news, he'd have a good bite on his nose. "I figured out everything before our favorite killjoys. Both his location right now and how he's managed to start this practice. I ran straight from Six-burrow to you once I knew for sure. Can you believe that I haven't slept in days because of all of this craziness? Guess we've both had it hard, huh?"

Lu tried super hard to ignore the fact that Tobi, gone for six days, had been drinking and gambling in Six-burrow.

Braixen also preferred the tip of their feet, a fact Lu just noticed as he ran over to grab the compass. He brought it up to his muzzle, a wide smile on his face. "You haven't moved it, right?"

"No."

"Perfect, it'll be easy to calibrate." A twist to the right and it was ready. The braixen was so good at tracking, Lu wondered if the compass was just a fashion statement to the witty fox. "I'll explain as we move. If we're quick, we can take the child from under their noses at his little meeting spot. He'll be grateful enough, I might think, to whip up a get-rich-quick scarf imbued with good luck."

Tobi put his stick in his mouth before slinging a satchel over his shoulder. He tossed Lu her own bag, then fastened his disguise.

"There will be fighting," Lu said. "Hope you can scrap while hung over."

"Yikes," he mumbled. "Do you have a bone to pick?"

"I thought you died. You were the town over, gorging yourself on mead and dice."

"Oh, Lu. I'm really sorry. You can fend for yourself, so I decided to see where staying took me." He grinned. "In fact, if I had left, this kid would be as good as dead." It took a moment, but she nodded in agreement. Still, Lu's fragile psyche had taken a serious blow. She smiled; on the inside, there was turmoil. "Speaking of that, we need to get moving!" He clapped her on the back, leaped over the deer carcass, and started South.

Lu remembered that more than her feelings were on the line, and loyally followed the expert tracker.

The thrill or the hunt propelled them forward. Together, nothing could prevent them from obtaining their mark. Trees, their limbs and roots, whistled and snapped against the force moving through them. Tobi remained in her sight by just a sliver, he whisked through the woods as an ember. And she was the hound led by the lantern. She wondered about the Unending Hunt which came in the life after this one. How it could be better than what she already shared with Tobi?

An end to the hunt always came too early. Here it had ended far too soon. Tobi slowed to a relaxed canter, his expression anything but pleased. He stopped and tapped his nose. "Hello? Is this thing on?" He snorted, took another whiff of the air, then growled.

"Has the trail gone cold?" Lu breathed in the icy air. It stung less than the wind-whipped breaths she took on the run.

"No, Lu. I thought I'd get some R&R while they dropped the charmander in a bathtub."

"Please don't be mad at me. It's not my fault."

He nodded. Several times, since he was too busy thinking to stop. "Sorry, sorry. There wasn't a trail to begin with, Lu. Heading straight South should have worked. I saw a tiny cloaked Sent this morning, walking towards this part of the woods. Someone must've smothered his scent. Sheesh."

She focused hard. No more wasted breath. "Punishers wouldn't do that," she said. "So it must be the helpers you mentioned. He's safe!"

The happiness wasn't contagious. "No!" Tobi snarled. "I don't buy it. This was our chance!" The braixen raced about. Every so often, the fox fixated on some goal or destination. It had kept them from settling anywhere. Lu wagged her tail and kept her eyes focused on the ground. It was best not to interfere.

A loud and triumphant yelp came from behind one of the nearby trees. "Wait a minute - you can't smother a tail-fire. You can't, Lu!" He exclaimed. "You'd have to maim the twerp. So that trail is out there. I just made a m-m-mis... mis..."

"Mistake?" Lu provided. Not that she expected to be included in the conversation.

By some luck, Tobi heard her. "Whatever, that word. Okay. If we continue South, we're due to run into the bastard. There's too much ground for us together, and we can't risk being caught alone..." He reached into his satchel. The short blade he pulled out won a nervous swallow from the lucario. "We need to form a Pack*."

"That's risky. You'd usually say so yourself." The hunt was natural. But the Pack was a machination, not at all worldly. With it, Lu wouldn't need be the hound behind the lantern. She would feel his intents and his emotions, all while having access to his senses. The trade was mutual. If poorly done, it also meant being bound to a Pack for life - and in the Unending Hunt that came afterwards. Or done too often. Or for occasions no one could decipher. The contract in Tobi's hand was from an older world.

Maybe it was just her imagination, but the Conduit hummed excitedly. Lu's ears pricked up. She salivated at the sheer rumor surrounding the tool. It resonated with her, somehow.

Tobi spotted this. "See? You want this. I'm sick of our luck... we're finding this kid and getting rich!" There was hardly time for a peep. Tobi ran the contract across the inside of his paw. The blade drew far more blood than a normal cut. It hurt more as well. Tobi threw the contract on the ground and cursed. Another aspect of the Pack: entry required more than a bit of pain.

"Lu?" He gasped and held his bleeding claw away from his body. Like it had a mind of its own, filled with vengeance at being cut open. "I'm r-regretting this."

She had the braixen wrapped in her arms before he could say another word. Rows of teeth pressed into her shoulder as he fought the damage done by the contract. The pain subsided after a minute. Lu's shoulder throbbed where he has clamped down. But he didn't break skin, so Tobi handled this far better than previous attempts.

"What were you thinking?!" She asked, bewildered. "What's gotten into you? Please tell me."

Tobi gave her an embarrassed grin, showing off his pearly whites - like a fox caught perusing the henhouse. Water welled in the corners of his eyes. "There was other news. The Atlasan presiding over Roake arrived a few weeks ago. They locked him up and scheduled an execution. As usual, they've got to have a scapegoat. But he escaped. Jumped right out of a tower in Sunstarch and swam away."

"Good for him?"

"You can be so dang petty when you're upset." He laughed. She couldn't help joining in. "I wasn't honest about my stay in Six-burrow. I wanted to learn more about this Atlasan. They said he was a mienshao. A male with pretty tassels - Meathead's words. I have an old friend like that, who was just donning the black-and-gold when I left him. I found out that no one knew any names, so I waited to see if the rumors fleshed out. I thought... maybe this charmander could whip up something to find this Atlasan. So I could know for sure."

Lu stayed quiet.

"I don't know why I always withhold these things from you. Force of habit, I guess. Forget about all this. Let's head back, finish that stag..."

She picked up the contract from its spot in the snow and put a lengthy gash in her paw. It hurt. She growled to prove her determination and wrapped her paw up with Tobi's claw. The Pack's formation left her unsure of her directions. She closed her eyes and laid her head on top of her friend's. They embraced, fighting the mounting nausea.

After a few moments, she learned how the cold air felt to the braixen. His body's heat warmed the air filling his lungs. When he sniffled happily, he took in the scent of simmering wood. Prior experience told her it was her scent.

"You- ah." Tobi mouthed words, trying to get used to hearing them from two different places. "You didn't even complain about your cut this time. Darn show-off. Lu," he said, jokes put aside. "Thank you."

Lu rose to her feet. "You're welcome. Now let's cover ground."

The Pack rose to find their mark.

*, 1: Sent = Pokémon. The term Pokémon is used scarcely (1-2 times in 20,000 words? You'll learn why, later.

*, 2: Here, your typical lucario is going to have a more conventional muzzle. Like a jackal, it is very pointed. Unless it's Lu, who is meatier than the typical - she is closer to what you probably had in your head.

*, 3: I think it's best if I jump ahead to give you the context for these terms. Martial arts are abilities. Spirit welding expands on the items one may find in Mystery Dungeon games. Namely, orbs and scarves. It confuses me when some PMD stories rely on things like 'shadow ball' and other stagnant moves. My characters are talking, thinking Pokémon. They deserve the credit that they are capable of creatively using their talents.

*, 4: The Pack isn't based off any game feature, besides {{maybe}} the team function. After looking over spirit welding, I realized a glaring empty space: how it worked between Pokémon. The Pack is a sort of introduction to the kind of powers latent in Sents.

Feedback is appreciated.


	2. Bleak & Maga

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two of Punishments.

"Here you are. Thought you could hide from us, huh?"

Bleak shut his eyes and listened to the wet thumps of his racing heart. It was better to get caught here, where his only crime was liking his privacy. He had no idea how his den siblings even found him this deep in the woods. The blind luck exhausted him to no end.

"Coatzle," he said. "Imagine, uh, running into you here. Come here often?"

The poochyena playfully cuffed Bleak's head. "You're really lame."

With that remark, Coatzle released the prisoner he had pinned to the muddy ground. The mud on Bleak's back wasted no time in starting to itch. The bubbling brook near the trail taunted the tail clasped between his arms. The fire on his tail didn't react well to water. And, as luck would have it, the brook's mouth had swallowed his favorite sheet.

"Aw, Coatzle, you mussed up his cover! You shouldn't have tackled him." The sister and brother lillipup nodded together. Their twin status didn't make them telepathic like the rumors promised. But it couldn't hurt to pretend. Their eyes lit up with success at the smallest of coordinated nods.

Coatzle was the de facto leader of the village's gang of children. In front of his most loyal followers, he wouldn't dare own up to a mistake. "Try not to be such a dunderhead, Trixie! He's using it to sneak around the grownups." His two lackeys mulled over this together. They decided in favor of their leader. "Well? Do you mind explaining your slinking around? Enlighten us, O great genius!"

Bleak's mouth popped open. Coatzle had caught him without an excuse to give. Any rivulets of water that made it through the maze of leaves posed little threat to his tail. The cover helped him navigate the farmland leading towards the forest. That alone had kept curious spotters away. He had a backup tucked away in his satchel that would work fine. He never imagined needing it, but there was no shame in being over-prepared.

Confidence gave him the nerves to put on a welcoming smile. They knew nothing besides where he was, which revealed nothing. "It's trying to wait inside my home all season, waiting for opportunities to walk. Would you rather I stay swaddled all Winter because of my tail?"

Bravado steamed from the poochyena. "You don't seem too happy to see us. Afraid us wet dogs will stink up your trail?" Upon hearing themselves included in Coatzle's breed*, the two lillipup ruffled with pride. The three of them began to slowly circle around their mark, with a lash of the tail or clashing of teeth occasionally breaking their stalk.

"Uh, what's going on?" Bleak tried and failed to chuckle. "H-ha, have you practiced this? Hello?"

"You know what's trying to me, Bleak? You always refuse to play with us. Mom tells me to invite you. I do, just so you can ditch us for a walk! Then mom gets mad at me! So when I invite you to scrap, you scrap, okay?"

Scrapping meant wrestling and biting, neither of which sounded fun at all. "You know? You're right," the charmander said, straining to sound sincere. "How about you wait for me in the common land while I retrieve my cover? Then we can scrap." It was worth a try, but the attempt only made Coatzle angrier.

"Ya' must think I'm stupid!" The poochyena snarled and bared his teeth.

"Your words, not mine."

"Shut up! You might've fooled me with the prank you laid in your house, but I'm not giving up until you play tag with us - tag, at least!" To accentuate his remark, the poochyena dived in and butted Bleak's leg. The charmander slipped back into the mud with a wet plop. It wasn't the attack that did him in; it was the words.

"Y-you went into my house, too?" Bleak asked. "Couldn't you have saved this for when I was in it? Or for never?" Maintaining the humor in his voice became harder with each word.

Tannor, the brother of the lillipup twins, broke the hunting circle and came forward. "We're not the naughty ones! Your house made us feel really yucky in our stomachs and our chests. Some of our siblings felt wretched and had to go home. You're lucky we weren't supposed to be in there, or we'd have all told on you for being mean!"

Bleak had barely gotten onto his feet again when Coatzle flew into him, paws forward. He looked down at the charmander with a smug grin. "I was brave, though, and I told mom. Wow, was she upset..."

The charmander tried and failed to stifle a curse. The two lillipup jumped back in shock. "Bad word!" Trixie yelled. "Bleak said a bad word! Bad word, bad, bad, word," they sang.

"Quiet, please," Bleak whispered. He crawled backwards. The children were no longer the ones trapping him - the entire forest seemed to close in. The shakiness in his voice brought them all to a stop. "Y-you've killed me," he stammered. His den siblings began to whine fearfully. From Bleak, there wasn't any doubt in the accusation. "You need to go before they see you with me."

"I don't understand what we did," Coatzle said.

"I did something very forbidden. You told Mom, and she probably told the Punishers. I'll never be able to come home again. She doesn't know what they do to Sents like me!"

The siblings went silent. "That wasn't a funny joke," Coatzle told him. "Mom would sort things out. Wouldn't she?"

"Go! Get out of here!" Bleak waved his arms and jumped forward, making them all cower. In another instant they had fled, bellies low the ground as they had been while play-hunting.

Not a moment too soon, he heard footsteps - too loud to be those of his den siblings. How did they find him this early? His suppliers told him not to, under any circumstances, lead those murderers to their hideout. But he was feeling greedy. Bleak didn't want to die alone in the forest.

Without a moment to lose, Bleak pulled his second cloak from his bag and fled towards the Roakens' meeting place.

He made it hardly a foot before something stole his footing. Dirt rolled past him as the snare on his leg dragged him back. Not a thing, he realized with mounting terror. It wasn't something.

It was someone. Bleak didn't get out a single cry. His attacker struck the back of his head, rendering him silent.

The charmander woke up in an uncomfortable position. Whoever dragged his body through the mud had the hasty decency to prop him against a stump. The wound on his head wasn't pressed against it, a mercy he hadn't expected. Along with everything else. Such as the fact he wasn't tangled in a leash wrapped around the hands of a Punisher. Being faced with the horrors of a Punishment was another nightmarish possibility. One he created in detail while unconscious in the cold.

The end of his life in Six-burrow, and the start of whatever his new life meant, were separated by a few feet. Bleak didn't know what to make of it.

"Hello?" The sun was overhead and shining light where it could. He wrapped an arm over his eyes to block it out. "Gah? Huh?" Whoever attacked him had covered him in mud. It reminded him of mud-wrestling. Mud-wrestling was just scrapping with a lecture afterwards.

The rustling had been so insistent, Bleak didn't notice the noise until it stopped. He backed into the stump. It scratched his back but he didn't mind. The Feral in front of him preoccupied all of his thoughts.

Its mangy fur smelt like the untouched corners of Six-burrow's slaughtering house - fitting, since it seemed as though someone had tried to skin the beast. It foamed at the mouth and gnawed greedily on the contents of Bleak's bag. Gashes on its back turned shimmering scarlet in the sun, rivulets pourred from these wounds and into the brook. They had to be the legacy of its last victim. Every time it pulled away to breathe or scoop water into its mouth, its labored breaths blew away the roasted flax-seed stuck to its muzzle. One hit Bleak square between the eyes. He covered his head and whimpered.

"Please, just go away," he managed to choke out. He was behaving like a child. He imagined this situation differently: himself, a scrappy charmander leaving the gashes. Instead he prayed that the Feral would roll over and die by someone else's effort. It was all that drowned rat's fault.

Last year, Winter left behind one extra gift to den mother Momola's farm. An image appeared vividly on the back of his eyelids. Siblings gathered around to see the spectacle. A rat had fell intop in the ice flooded in and stole the fight from it. The current pinned it to the bottom.

Coatzle ate it whole to win a bet made by the older farmhands. His prize was enough money for a pastry and seniority over his siblings. But Bleak realized that he felt different compared to his siblings. Seeing the rat's opened mouth, how it had lost its mind in the struggle to resurface... the child discovered why the Punished begged for mercy; they ate a feast, received time for reparations, had their legacy remembered in the totem that stood as a valedictory to these brave sacrifices; but they begged all the same; they were whelps once who dared to eat drowned rats trapped in the irrigation; as adults, they realized that awfulness wasn't rat-specific; so, the difference between Bleak and his siblings? Bleak knew then that Arceus lacquered his victims in mud, blood and sweat before he let them die dishonored. While his siblings, who loyally expected their time in front of the totem, would be in for a nasty surprise come Punishment time.

It was the day the contract spoke to him. Trapped in the cabinet forbidden to the children. Momola only freed it in the Wintertime. The hunting parties needed the Pack to guide them through the cold.

Bleak heard its call, for better or for worse. And he resisted the urge to forget what he knew. Arceus wouldn't hear him cry today.

He threw his arms out and opened his eyes. The Feral stared at him.

"Hey!" He called, meeting those bloodshot eyes. "That lunch was packed for me." This seemed to take the edge off the fiend. It approached, one cautious hop after another. Shivers went through his body. A dry nose bumped into his shoulder. The owner bumbled around, more curious than ferocious. "Go ahead, s-sniff me all you want. I hope my tail sears your throat!"

Then it wiped the flaxseed of its mouth. Bleak struggled to keep his eyes open. The creature and its foul breath were inches from his face.

"Are you the kid?" The Feral asked.

What an unexpected day it turned out to be! "You... you aren't a Feral?" To answer, his aggressor raised his paw back. That was a universal sign. One Bleak knew intimately as be quiet or I'll hit you. "Whoa, please! What do you mean by kid?"

"Caster. Spirit welder."

Who was this half-dead Sent? Bleak considered how he might have come about this secret. He drew a blank. Arms flopping to his side, Bleak did his best to look harmless. Not a hard feat at all for someone of his size. "Sure. You've caught me."

A stroke of good luck for the Sent. He grinned, or rather posed as the monster from Tannor's favorite bedtime story. His jaw held pearly whites. Stained with gristle. Yet well cared for, Bleak was sure. The observation brought him much-needed relief. "Huzzah," the Sent muttered. Sarcasm, good sign number two. "Take these. Repair them so I may communicate with Duke Willard." In one paw, a Punisher's relay orb. In the other, an ornate contract. Bleak was shocked to see one studded with gems and drenched in silver. Bronze was the layman material.

The relay orb held his attention. Never in a million years did he see himself allowed to hold one. The grownup shoved the priceless things into his claws. Bleak couldn't resist asking a few questions. "Who? And why?"

"Are these questions necessary?"

"Oh, absolutely," he lied.

The Sent walked towards the brook. He splashed water over his back and face. Grime fell away from him in mounds, and a film of dust started to peel. When he was done, Bleak took the time to notice the tassels hanging from his arms. A faint waft of regal eminence entered the air.

"Look upon me," the mienshao said.

The charmander nodded. "Looking."

"I am Chief Maga, president over the island of Roake and its inhabitants. Responsible for..." he slumped over, the pain in his back unbearable. He chuckled, and Bleak decided against joining in. "Things. I must give my case to Duke Willard of Treasus. I was betrayed by members of my assembly and must clear my name."

Bleak was left speechless. A Chief? The fact that he was hereby involved in cross-continental intrigue was stupefying. "Awesome," he said unchecked.

Maga backhanded him. The tassel followed the blow. It was like it intended to apologize for its owner by comforting his face. It was surprisingly soft. The child backed away, stung.

"I'm dying," Maga muttered.

"No. Really?" Bleak spat out some bloodied spit. All breeds of Sents inherited some kind of sturdiness. Getting knocked around wasn't anything besides frustrating.

"I can hear my old friend's laughter in the floorboards of your inn. I swear his golden fur fell through the cracks and tickled my noise. He's drinking and happy in my hallucinations. That lucky braixen. I'm dying, and I just want to clear my name beforehand."

And the mystery of Maga's knowledge was solved. Bleak's den mother likely told the Punishers at the inn about his house. The mienshao crawled under the place and ate their scraps.

Then there was the other matter. "I'm not sure how to say this," Bleak said, "but there is a braixen staying at the inn. If memory serves. How about I go get him?"

Maga shook his head. "You don't need to reassure me with lies. From now on, if you stray from my wishes I'll douse your fire in this water. Fix the orb."

That'd be famous, if Bleak knew how to do so. He had, perhaps, a way to make this work in his favor. "I'm sorry," he said, "I need my teacher's help. The meeting place isn't far. She's a Roaken-"

"Spineless Roaken," Maga hissed. "May their claws be blunt and their fangs be chipped forever when they reach the Unending Hunt!"

"...Right. She'll help fix it. So you can, uh..." Maga approached him. Determination flickered behind the mienshao's tired eyes.

"Clear my name, whelp." Maga grabbed the charmander's wrists. He brought Bleak into the water. Bleak yelped, head and tail wrested out of his control. The sight of his tail-fire nearing the frigid pool brought him to tears. He briefly forgot about being brave.

"No! Not like this! Let go of my tail!" The water surged. His tail went under for just a second*. Bleak's mouth dropped open. For that fireless moment, Bleak no longer knew who he was. The air he sucked in did nothing. Then he was back, weakened but conscious.

"Your mind is your most precious possession." A Roaken mantra. "I've lost everything precious to me. Ask yourself: does that make me willing to leave you witless and helpless in the woods?"

He shivered. "You are willing," Bleak wheezed.

Maga lowered himself so the child might see him. "I will snuff your light if you try to deny me."

"Okay. Please let me up."

Maga wrenched him away from the danger. Terror left Bleak with just the sense to roll onto his feet and begin marching. He breathed onto his tail-fire. "It's this way," he whispered.

"Attaboy," Maga replied.

He had held together admirably. But this was his limit. His den mother had made him into nothing more than a fugitive. Like Maga. She hadn't intended to, but she didn't know better. As he walked in the direction of his meeting place, he spoke noiselessly to the icy breeze. Every step, a name:

"Goodbye, Momola. Thanks for lunch."

A step.

"Goodbye, Coatzle, Tannor, Trixie. It's not your fault."

A step.

"Goodbye Basil. Thanks for the help."

A step. Maga started to catch on to his whispering.

"G-goodbye, everybody. I wanna go home already."

A step. The rest of the steps were uninteresting. They were filled with the sobs of a homesick child.

*, 1: Breed can refer to any title for a Pokémon: often their canon name, or the animal they closely resemble. As done by Coatzle, a Pokémon can use the latter to stand under the same breed.

*, 2: Instant death upon getting doused didn't fit with the 'Sents are tough' premise. Instead, an unlit fire can result in the same health issues created via asphyxiation. A stronger or evolved charmander can endure submersion. Bleak is sort of a wimp.

Feedback appreciated.


	3. Basil & Allworthy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three of Punishments.

"This is the problem with Punishers. You prance around and break things as you please, then you leave without makings your reparations! That's it, enough is enough. I'm standing up for myself!" The bibarel blocked the way out of his second-rate inn.

"Oh, Arceus help us - all the great revolutions start with an innkeeper!" Allworthy shoved by the keep and into the crisp air. Six-burrow rested on the bottom of a hill. A blanketed field separated him from the treeline in the East. That field happened to be the common field - polluted with footsteps of all sizes. And the woods? It took a special kind of will to keep his jaw off of the bibarel buzzing in his ear. Instead, he yelled. "Damn it, critter, can't you see I'm busy?"

The keep pointed a shaky arm at the side of his inn. Splinters stuck out of the side panels and littered the ground. A dour smell drifted from the dark burrow amidst the debris. "You're busy detecting the beast which created that crawl space. Then you can busy yourself with whoever stole your cape."

On the mention of the lost cape, a linoone slinked over to Allworthy. "C-commander, forgive me! Please, I did my best to stop him. I gave more effort than I put into anything else in life. He overpowered me, he was such a graceful fighter." A lie; there wasn't a single scratch on his body.

"Oy! Punisher, I beg your attention!" A ratty delcatty entered the scene. She managed a few niceties before she spouted out her own problems. "I heard through rumor that you kill the, uh, 'gifted' children. Please, I never intended for you to kill my little Bleak! I'd ask you to return him, and I swear you won't ever hear a word of 'im practicing wizardry." Allworthy wasn't born yesterday; the den mother realized that a child like Bleak could fetch a pretty price. It was the degenerate business in Orchidia, snatching up orphans and raising them up to be Punishers. Allworthy resolved to never visit Six-burrow again, not while he was still breathing.

"Momola," the keep said, "wait your turn." The delcatty snarled at him. Claws popped halfway out so the commander wouldn't notice. He did, and didn't care.

"No! I swore to protect my child."

"Please! Protect your profits, maybe."

A blitzle poked his head out from the inn's entrance. "Commander, everything has been packed. Will we head out?"

"Never!" The bibarel shouted. "Not until you fix my-"

"Everyone shut their traps for a moment!" They all retreated at the commander's bark. The explosive noise sent them all scurrying. Giving in now would be breaking his word, so the bibarel was the only one to resume his bickering. Albeit quieter. "Heetz?"

The linoone directed his eyes upward, too scared to move much else. "Commander?"

"Your mother swore you have talent as a tracker."

"Y-yes. I've a discerning n-nose."

Allworthy nodded his head towards the crawl space. "Investigate that hole. Sans," he said, addressing the blitzle, "have everyone pack snow into some empty flour bags. We'll sandbag the hole once Heetz is done. And what's the status on my message?"

Allworthy's troupe, numbering ten, filed out of the inn. The rotten doorframe creaked as they pushed by each other in a rush to fill the flour bags. A weazel pushed his way to the front. He stuck his nose up, indignant from needing to share the same doorway as the unworthy recruits. "I have received a reply. Congratulations, you meathead - you let Duke Willard's heir rob you blind. He didn't have that monster of a guard dog by his side. if you were paying attention, our time together might have come to a close."

He loved how Nasfereet conveniently forgot to mention his own failure to recognize the braixen. "Cut ties with my favorite probationary officer?" Allworthy asked venomously. "Nope. I'd never dream of it." Nasfereet was still right in regards to his meatheaded-ness. The braixen had all the mannerisms of a well-bred Atlasan. Way too concerned with being washed, sure, but the heir's competence smelt like flowers in the midst of dung. Most importantly? He held a drink down. A drinking partner for a week evened nicely when compared to the cloak he lost for it. He didn't think it could be the runaway prince. By the time he sent in a message, the fox was gone.

"Commander? Perhaps I could search for him." Heetz swallowed, eyes locked on Allworthy's paws. The herdier* wondered why he wasn't in the crawl space. "I'll follow him night and day until we're together. M-meaning," he added, "until I've caught up to him." The linoone whimpered as the herdier approached him. Allworthy studied his eyes. Heetz's pupils opened and closed. They jittered between Allworthy's face and an unseen image left in the back of his mind.

"Fierce battle my ass," he muttered. "Nasfereet, I've got a charmed one over here!" The weavile grinned ear to ear.

Heetz retreated from the doctor and began to wail. "No! We are in love. I'm running away with him! We were meant to be - no, no, no! Tobi, love, save me!" He kicked the approaching weavile with his hind legs and sprinted away. The rest of the troupe stopped packing the bags and laughed. The two scrambled after one another. One yelled threats. The other yelled out the opening stanza to 'Star-crossed', an Orchidian love-poem. Allworthy gestured to the linoone's brother, Frig. Frig covered his head with his paws and sulked over to the crawl space.

"If I ever found out a child o' mine was strange*," Momola bragged, "I'd beat it right out of them."

"Do you realize," Allworthy replied, "that every time you speak, my opinion of you lowers?" That shut her up. "Ma'am. A child's got to have a certain frame of mind to spirit weld." He remembered the aptitude tests from his childhood in Atlas. "They rarely got the strength to control their habit. Say they do have it, then it's an issue all that power belonging to a gullible whelp."

"Don't kill him, please! I'll make sure no one manipulates him."

"Upon finding your charmander, I'll send him to Treasus for safekeeping and instruction. Where did this rumor come from? We don't murder children for being talented."

Upon hearing this, the delcatty threw off the pretension of being a concerned den mother. "Wait - so will I not be receiving... compensation?"

Allworthy took in a deep breath. Nasfereet butted in and answered for him. "Not a chance, since you won't be around for the transaction." Momola bit back a growl. "Also, Allworthy: your linoone's episode is over. I'm afraid to say that he was strange before the charming, so he may still have 'feelings' for the prince." Heetz looked dreadful. The linoone curled up, likely imagining the lashing he would get for letting the prince escape.

"That's his business," Allworthy said. "And ours is done, Momola. I promise your son will be taken care of-"

"Wait!" Momola screeched. "A favor. I have a huge favor to ask of you. My daughter would like to volunteer, and... grr... ah! She could collect the money for us. And since he's so precious, do I get immunity from Punishment?" Allworthy wouldn't wish Punishment on anyone. But, damn, if some Sents made him reconsider.

"Three bids," Nasfereet said. "If you hadn't let the runt run away from us." Momola opened her mouth to complain. It was too much for the herdier.

"Agh... retrieve your daughter and write down the three names of those you want granted immunity." Nasfereet shook his head. This deal would make Six-burrow a breeding ground for opportunists. He didn't have the authority to stop it, even if he was Willard's lap-weasel.

Her greedy eyes lit up. With his job, he only ever saw that look from Sents like her. "You won't regret it!" She exclaimed. But he already was.

Bad news came from Frig: the investigation in the crawl space yielded poor results.

"It's awful in there," Frig said. He tried to remain neutral as his brother was tied to a nearby post for his lashes. Sans had taken the whip to be heated in the inn's fireplace; It could only break a Sent's skin if it was piping hot. "I can't tell whether a Sent lived or died down there. If it even was a Sent - Heetz, I can't do anything about your whipping! Stop yelling at me, please!"

Allworthy huffed and sat down on the steps. Maybe after Momola disappointed him, the awful town would let him leave.

Yet the frisky thing delivered, funnily enough. Allworthy perked up upon seeing her favor. Like she said: it was a huge one. A tower of a favor. A favor that could shove two of his Punishers down her maw, stomp on two, then skewer two more on her long claws for later. The favor looked skeptical. Not aware in the full about why her mother had dragged her away from... Allworthy couldn't imagine the kind of role she filled on a farm. He forgot who was doing the favor. Him, or this den mother who put a born-ready warrior in front of him.

"When they said small towns are full of lost treasure," he said, "I didn't imagine they meant like this."

"Say what?" The favor asked. Her accent was layered on thick. Allworthy nearly repeated the question back to her. One thing was certain: what a mountainous voice!

The favor's mother interjected. "Forgive her. Basil's smarter than she sounds. I'm real proud o' my da. Real proud. Say hello in your polite voice, dear."

Basil came forward. "Howdy do." Her voice rumbled in her chest.

Allworthy laughed. "Howdy do yourself! All my days, I never thought I'd see someone as fat as the Bonebreaker." The company who knew Duke Willard's vassal agreed. "You're the biggest, ugliest zangoose I've ever seen. Heck, out of every Sent I've seen in awhile."

"When money's thin, ma has me eating out of the pigs' trough."

The scratch on her thigh must have felt like a mosquito sting. "Ha! She always jests," Momola promised, burying her paw in the snow. The innkeeper tittered and relented, not interested in the fool's errand taking place in front of him. "Right, daughter?"

"It's not gross if I be forceful and go first. I get seconds and thirds if I raise my voice." Her mother scratched her thigh again. Pinx marveled at the giant. Hasty estimates and measurements filled his ratty notebook. When something like Basil strolled by, they were considered on the spot as Punisher material. No questions asked.

Allworthy blessed the zangoose's name. He didn't even know if she was joking or not about that pig slop diet. The infernal post the Dukes gave him was moss-covered walls and an ocean view for weeks on end. Yet this, this was why he loved to move around. "Basil," he said, "your mother wants you to be a Punisher. You'd be saving your sibling a lot of trouble, and our troupe would get your company for a couple years."

Basil nodded. "Fair enough. Got an extra large cloak?"

"No, we don't." Nasfereet seemed torn on whether he liked the monstrosity. He used his usual tie-breaker: did Allworthy want it? Judging by his laughter, he did. "This is all so interesting. But think practically. What do we feed it? What if we anger it and can't tell? Where will it do its... business?"

"I have a spot in the common field," Basil said. "It's marked by a skull and crossbones."

The look on Nasfereet's face was priceless. He started to look out for sign posts. Allworthy wanted her in his troupe. But he couldn't go head first into things. A quick judgment was what got his cloak stolen in the first place. "Basil," he said. "I need to know if you're right in the head. Would you like to play commander for a moment?" All he needed was to hear her outside of what Momola coached her to say.

For the first time, the zangoose seemed uncomfortable. "If I hafta, I will." Her mom shifted nervously.

"Okay," he began. "I have a whelp in my service named Heetz. Found out today he's strange. What do you think?"

"Critters can't help it. 'Sides, it's his breed to hunt out snakes."

It took her a moment to understand. When she did, Momola slashed Basil's side. This time she drew blood. "You sick animal! I didn't raise you to speak like that!"

"Ma, the other farmhands talk like that." Basil frowned and stooped over to rub her leg.

"If you hit her again, the deal is off the table. I'm serious. I don't take damaged Sents." Allworthy turned his attention back to the zangoose. "Next question. What do you think about that crawl space we covered up?" Rows of flour bags hid the hole and the smell coming from it.

She looked at it. "Can I look inside?"

"Sure."

Basil lumbered over to the crawl space. She smacked the bags away, earning a groan from those who had stacked it. Unlike Frig, her size prevented her from crawling in farther than halfway. Just when he thought she might be stuck, Basil emerged.

In her large paw were a few strands of yellow fur. "Look'ee here." It was the braixen's hair.

It took Frig a moment to realize he had to defend his honor as a tracker. "Yeah, so?" He asked. "Pelts are due to shed. Some went though the boards."

"Nae. The critter underneath was hoarding them. When the young ones get scared, they run to their siblings. It's an animal signal, I reckon." Basil probably meant to say 'instinct'. "Does the owner of this fur have a friend in trouble?"

Allworthy was impressed beyond words. And it explained much. "Our prince must've got a message from our Sent under the floorboards. Maybe from Duke Willard's other heir."

"Both Tobi and Maga, the latter of which we lost in the ocean, turning up at the same inn? Preposterous."

"We assumed too late before. Let's assume that our luck just turned around. Where did they go, Basil?"

Basil thought about it. "After my sibling Bleak."

Allworthy chuckled. "What? Why?"

"Because he could make a magic bandage for the bleeding one. And it hurts my head to think of where else they could go.".

That was good enough for the commander. "Give that awful female her money. Welcome aboard, Basil. We're heading out right after I give this linoone his lashes. Ah! A question, Heetz - do you think I'm cute?"

Heetz had quieted down. He tried to meet the commander's eyes and whispered, desperately, "never, commander Allworthy." Sans handed over the whip. Heetz whimpered.

"Well, now I'm just hurt!" Allworthy murmured through the whip's handle. "I was going to give you five lashes if you said I was cute. Ten strikes for the callous jerk!" He reared back, then lunged forward. The fiery whip across Heet's back, leaving a nasty cut in its wake. The linoone screamed and hugged the post as if his life depended on it. "Basil?" Allworthy said, preparing another strike.

"Yeah?" After getting the money from Nasfereet and handing him the letter, Momola was gone without so much as a farewell to her cash-cow. The zangoose looked perturbed by this, up until she became the center of Allworthy's attention again.

"You'll be carrying this lump once he's done. When we set up camp, make sure you tell Nasfereet to close the wounds with the balm."

"What happens if I forget?" She asked.

"Nothing at first," he grunted, bringing down the whip. Heetz called out for his brother. "But if he doesn't bleed out, the fever will do him in eventually."

*, 1: Allworthy was supposed to be a stoutland. This is what happens when I don't check the names. Too late to change it now, and I like to lie to myself and say it fits better - Allworthy is all sorts of stout, but not third-evolution worthy. A strong third evolution is shown off in chapter five.

*, 2: Yes, it's the vernacular in Orchidia. Yes, it means what you think it means. I know that this can be a sensitive topic, so I will say this: if the characters' reactions offend you, then mark that one against them: I'm the writer - my opinions on the topic are never going to be seen.

Feedback appreciated.


	4. Lu's Life, part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter four of Punishments. With character introductions out of the way, the chase begins.

An hour of searching passed uneventfully. Aside from what one expected from the woods, there wasn't a thing out of place. Though she did find a cast-iron skillet, an old campfire, and the hilt of a contract. They were remnants of Bleak's old practice area. Lu probed the area until she was certain that the camp was of no use. Winter turned out to be a great season for covert meetings. The cold made the woods stagnant. What little did remain, the snow destroyed overnight. This campsite had to be weeks old.

She backtracked to a fallen log. It smelled pleasant to her as she passed by. Chewing on its bark might help her come up with a good idea. Lu ripped off a piece uncovered by moss and chomped down.

"Yuck!" She heard Tobi say. "What the heck did you just put in your mouth?"

Taste, like smell and touch, was a sense shared by the Pack. Lu winced. That little fact had slipped her mind. "It's bark. It tastes sorta minty, doesn't it?"

"No. It tastes like I scraped my teeth along a rotten plank. Please spit it out." They were well out of earshot of each other, but she heard his complaints as if he spoke right into her ear. While telepathy appeared in Packs that have stayed together for years, there were other ways to communicate. The simplest was to talk to oneself. Sharing noises came easier than sharing thoughts, so hearing one's own voice was an easy way to send a message to the Pack. Lu admitted to the idea's cleverness.

Besides a unique way to hold a conversation, their joining in a pack proved to be a waste. Tobi turned up nothing in his stretch of the woods. Scouring for a trail tired Lu. Having to feel Tobi scour as well stretched a one-hour search into two. Lu spat out the bark, frustrated.

"Okay," Tobi said. Judging by the scratchy feeling on her own back, he had laid down against a tree. "I'm a stupid twerp in the woods. What do I do?"

"I suppose you search for a charmander. And drag your friend along to help."

Tobi laughed and adjusted himself. "I walked into that one." His mood had improved since they began the search. Yet Lu could feel his chest rise and fall with short breaths, the frustration a few hours prior still fuming in his chest. Even so, he kept himself in line. "Have I ever told you about my friend? Maga?" He asked. The question came out of the blue.

"No. I don't think you have. When did you meet him?" Lu resumed her hunt. If he was taking a break, she might as well pick up the slack.

"I met him about three years before you happened to me. I was a newbody back then - I was learning to walk on two legs instead of four when he arrived." Tobi chuckled. "Seemed to be a stickler at first. I was right about that, and also kind of wrong. He was a blast when he took the stick out. Oh! One time I stole this human music-device from my old dancing teacher. At first he stuck his nose up at me. Dishonor, shame, yadda yadda. I turn it on, right? He's doing Zumba in thirty seconds flat. It costs a small fortune to charge the music device, too. We wasted thirty thousand poké our own dance party."

Lu felt the braixen smile. She responded by smiling as well. "What's Zumba?"

"No idea. That's just what the music-device said it was. Zumba oh-one, Zumba oh-two. Let me tell ya, human music is insane- did you hear that?"

Once she stopped, Lu heard the noise drumming in Tobi's ears. His gigantic ears perked up. At first they twitched, picking up a constant squeal. The noise made more sense as it became louder. Lu and Tobi picked up the screams. Help, monster, kidnapper. The screams belonged to some strangely light footsteps.

"There are babies near you!" Lu exclaimed. "Listen to their little feet. That's so cute!"

"When you say babies, you don't mean the recently pushed-out kind, do you? Oh geez. Lu, help. I'm no good around kids! I hate the nasty little things!"

Lu gasped. "Not until you take that back."

"Fine! Kids are okay sometimes." Lu remained silent. "Kids are fine." Nothing. The footsteps came closer to Tobi. "Damn it! Kids are great, they're the future, their peeing on things is a small price to pay for the gifts-"

"Okay," Lu said. "I'll help. Here is what you do..."

Coatzle skidded to a stop. Tannor and Trixie weren't as light on their feet as their leader was. The three collided with each other, becoming a tangled ball of fur. Coatzle, the stoutest, flung them off his backc

"Stop, you peabrains!" Coatzle shouted. "T-there's someone in front of us." The braixen was busy stuffing a blanket in his bag. He turned around once he finished. "Uh, e-excuse me?" The poochyena said. "We need help."

"From a grownup," Trixie added. She timed her nod to match Tannor's.

"Quit it!" Coatzle swatted at them. "That twin-mind sharing stuff is for babies. There's no such thing!" The two lillipup both started to cry. At the same time.

The braixen broke out of his stupor and stepped forward. "Whoa, there. Siblings don't put down other siblings. They lick together!" The poochyena eyed him with growing suspicious. "S-stick together," he said, correcting himself. Coatzle apologized to his siblings. They wiped their eyes off on each other's back. "Now, er, what's troubling you?"

"Someone stole our sibling," Coatzle said. "A monster. It's my fault, because I tattled on him."

"I'm a hundred, million, zillion, heckadecka-dillion- seriously, Lu?"

"Who's Lu?" Tannor asked.

The siblings wondered if they had stumbled on a Sent who had too much sugar. Sweets rot the brain, according to their den mother.. The braixen laughed. "Seriously, you," he corrected again, "did the best possible thing for him. Now I'll be able to find and help him! I just need some directions."

One Sent had the right to order Coatzle around, and that Sent was his mom. "Firstly," the poochyena said, "who are you? Secondly, what will you do if you find Bleak? Thirdly, why are you so weird?"

The grin fell off the fox's face. A bunch of emotions flashed on his face inthe span of a few seconds: deep thought, surprise, doubt, the look Momola gave after a long day of mothering, then acceptance. Finally, he whipped his tail around. The children gasped. A proud fire had bloomed at the end.

The braixen sighed. "Look. I have a tail-fire like your Sibling's. Does this answer your questions?"

They huddled together for a bout of bickering. Once or twice they would break apart, only to come back together for more chatter.

Finally, after what seemed like years, they decided. "We trust you," Coatzle said. He sounded unhappy with the choice. The excitement of the two lillipup overwhelmed his leadership. "Point us towards home, and we'll tell you."

Surprised, Tobi nearly forgot to keep up his tail-fire. The stick he used to light campfires had come in handy. "Sounds good to me!"

After the children passed on the information, Tobi waited until they were out of earshot to speak again. That scrappy poochyena would chase him to the ends of Pokèterra, he was sure of it. "Okay, Lu. Did you hear all that? The children saw him last at a brook- gah, that's cold!" A wet feeling took over Tobi's toes. "Is that water you're standing in?"

"Yup," Lu replied.

"... How long have you been at the brook?"

"Since before you started talking to those kids," Lu answered, removing a blanket from the water. "I can't believe you didn't notice that I found something. We're in a Pack!"

"I was focused, you sour creature! I singed my beautiful tail to get that info. You're dead to me."

"Oh, stop it," Lu replied. "You were right about the tail-fire. It's impossible to cover it up." Tobi smelled it through the lucario's nose. It was faint. Also distinct, the scent of oil in a lit lantern. "We've got ourselves a trail."

Tobi pulled his Punisher's cloak out from the bag. Without Lu to guide him, he would have left it on. That'd scare the daylight out of any kid. "I'm mad at you. Still, that was so painless. Easily the best talk I've ever had with whelps. I never knew you were so good with children."

"There's a lot you don't bother to learn about me. I love to take care of little babies."

"And thus, Lu reveals why she's still with me." They both chuckled. Tobi finished the clasp on his cloak and ran towards the brook. With a trail, it was only a matter of time before he had the overgrown lizard in his claws.

Five years ago

"Hey Paws, who am I?"

"You? You're loyal, friendly... you've got a leg up on the other newbodies, 'cause you aren't problematic. Those issues during your evolution were the biggest problem I've had raising you. I'd say you have a bright future ahead of you."

"No," Lu said, abashed by the complements. "If Lu was short for riolu, then who am I now?"

The pidgeot tossed a wing over her. For a moment, Lu was afraid she'd fall flat on her face and drop their assorted leathers into the sand. She wasn't used to her new legs yet. Muscle and sinew widened them out. They were sizes bigger than the pictures had promised. No matter how Paws fed her, worked her, the growing didn't have an end in sight. Which was fine; Paws wasn't a lightweight himself, and he swore the extra size helped bring down big game. "You're a clever hunter, Lu," Paws said. "But it'd do you good to think things through. What's your breed?"

She knew it off the top of her head. "Lucario."

"Say it again."

"Lucario?"

"Crying out loud - again!"

"Lucario!" She yelled. The stalls closest to her paused their chatter. Used to peddling wares for hours on end, the traders accepted any distraction put in front of them. What an embarrassing scene! They probably thought she was stupid, yelling out her breed's name over and over*. Plage Whitestone reached out farther than her voice, luckily. The stall Paws rented was close to the ocean. It made their leathers smell less gamey, an attractive feature. Attractive enough that other hunters wouldn't dare set up near them, unless they wanted to be accused of mimicking Paws's wares. Not that leather came close to his other product: fresh meat.

Somewhat related to the shame, since it pushed her to avoid repeating her breed's name a fourth time, Lu figured her name out. "Oh," she said, humbled. "Lu is also short for lucario."

A nearby sentret fell into a laughing fit. He dropped the cup in his paws. Lu could tell he was a fellow apprentice by the look on his face when it hit the sand. A miserable frown had overtaken him before the cup ever hit the ground.

It was made of ornate stained glass. It reflected the light from the sun, the beams of color becoming brighter until it was the sun itself. The beam smacked right into the eyes of a heatmor, who threw an arm over his eyes to block out the radiance. Left hurtling from his paws, the hot poker from his portable smithy smacked into the flank of a fortune teller. The hypno yelped and fell backwards. Both the tea he had balanced in his hands, along with a bunch of sand he kicked up, launched right into the face of his prospective client.

Lu and the sentret met each other's eyes. That couldn't have gone better if they planned it within a Pack - better meaning worse, in this case. Desperate, the apprentice began to bury the cup one kick at a time.

The Sents watching her turned back to their business, only to notice the destruction wrought on their promising transaction. And their apprentice stomping on the goods. "S-sorry!" Lu called. She waved an arm to fetch the stunned Sents' attention away from the sentret. "That's my bad, everybody!"

Paws tucked her under his wing. "Shut up! Serves 'im right for laughing, anyhow. D-don't peek. They'll try to make us pay for things!" The two made a hasty escape towards the shore. Paws lifted off the ground every few steps, pushing them forward with his free wing.

It surprised Lu to discover that the miraculous accident had all but faded from her mind by the time they reached their stall. She dropped the leathers next to the rotisserie they carried onto the beach last night. The meat on the skewer spun round and round, roasting back and belly of a wild boar. It reminded her of the kill; Paws coming in front above, three spins before impact to ensure he did damage. Since the boar now spun around a spit instead of roaming the plains, Lu was certain the technique helped. Paws prodded it with his beak.

"Looks like your trick didn't delay us too much," he said. "No one enjoys dried pork." Upon seeing him back by the rotisserie*, several patrons strolled in from the pathways and made a line. Quite a few Sents toured the market with one eye trained on their stall. Due to the great time Paws and Lu made on the trail, Sents in Whitestone had a place to go if they tired of fish, or when their mouths watered for a fresh cut. Paws was a Novan as well, so he knew his way around food. The smoky smell of roasting meat drifted into the air, disguising the scent of many Sents gathering in one place - which, while not nice for Lu to admit as a Sent herself, wasn't fantastic. Others began to file in just because the line was long and that alone warranted a look. It was going to be a busy day.

"Come and get it!" The pidgeout shouted. "Que c'est délicieux! Det er Deilig!" Different continents adopted different forms of higher speech as their first language. It was polite to address another in their native tongue. Lu, being Orchidian, felt most comfortable in English. Yet multilingualism came easily to Lu, like it did to most Sents. Another trader told her once why it was so simple. A long time ago, back when Sents had called themselves Pokemon, everyone spoke in growls. Compared to understanding the growls of hundreds of breeds, a few forms of higher speech was child's play. It made sense to the lucario, who had never found the time to question it.

"Go play," Paws told her. She waggled her head. When the crowds started rolling in, it was hard to break away. "I know you love the ocean. Go, get your year's worth of splashing. I'll handle the hungry animals."

Nothing sounded better to the lucario. "Thanks, Paws!" This favor deserved a hug. She came forward to give him one.

He held her back. "Ah... spikes, Lu." The three steel studs glittered in the sun. As a riolu, she used metal plates to clobber the mark. Yet now, with these tools attached to her body, she could capture her mark without tenderizing it a week early.

She slipped through the gap between their stall and the one next to them. The moment it was safe to do so, she devolved into a gallop on all fours. Clouds of sands kicked up in all directions.

Plage Whitestone earned its name two ways. Firstly, the founders knew it would be a perfect port for Novan ships, so they chose plage instead of beach to pay respects*. Secondly, dozens of pearly rocks stuck out of the ocean. From a distance, it looked as if the ocean had a row of molars. The imagery didn't scare Lu at all. All she could think about was the cool water washing away weeks of travel. Swimming with her new body sounded exciting!

Sents of all types enjoyed the ocean. Some were obligated by necessity or instinct. Yet these swimmers had to share the beach with scrappers, splashers, and other fun types. What caught Lu's eye was an espeon pacing around on the shore, the only one not in the water or heading towards it. Upon seeing the worried expression on her face, Lu skidded to a stop. No one should be sad at the beach.

"Are you okay?" Lu asked.

The espeon perked up. A passerby stopping to check on her seemed to be a big surprise. "Oh! Hello." Judging by her voice, the espeon was a few years older than Lu. "Or bonjour. You're probably a Novan, right? Or a Roaken. Or an Atlasan." She tried her hardest; like many Sents, though, she couldn't say that last one without a note of contempt creeping into her voice.

"Calm down!" Lu laughed and patted the panicked Sent on the head. A move like that could start scraps, yet it seemed to fit the current situation. "The fur on your back is raised. Are you in trouble?"

"No - well, yes. I guess I am in a lot of trouble. My children are waiting for me at the city's entrance. And I m-miscounted them before we left." If Lu hadn't stopped to check on her, the espeon would likely be bawling by now. She took a deep breath, determined to stay strong in front of a stranger. "One of my kids, a deerling, she is stranded on the rock over there. The tide came up, and I d-d-don't know how to swim... Fab, pull it together. Come on." Lu looked straight ahead. It was true. A deerling approached the edge of the white rock. A small wave crashed into the side of her refuge. She retreated, shaking all over. From her angle, it must seem like the ocean wanted to swallow her up.

Lu nodded. "Yeah, Fab. Pull it together. A baby's stuck on that rock. This kind of sunlight will roast her!" Sents swam around the rock, apparently blind to the struggling child. If the child continued to run about the rock, she would succumb to the heat before long.

Fab snarled desperately. "That's not helping me pull together, stranger!"

"Sorry. Stay right here - I'll go get her."

"Wait! She's too scared..." Lu was already waist deep in the water. She dove under, experimented with a few kicks, then surfaced. Waves pushed her up and down as she doggie-paddled to the rock. It would be fun to go about in circles. Or kick down to the bottom to explore the submerged rocks, or see how the sun's rays entered the water. But Lu was a lucario on a mission.

After two minutes of forceful doggy-paddle, Lu reached the rock. She threw her paws about until she found a purchase. Water trickled off of her pelt as she climbed.

"No!" The deerling screamed. "You'll tip it over!"

Lu laid against the rock for a moment of rest. "I'm not gonna tip it, silly." She stood up and bounced on the edge of the rock. "See?"

The deerling crouched low to the ground, petrified. Already, the effects of heat exhaustion had warped the poor child's direction. She slipped briefly onto her side. "Hurry, towards the middle. It's safer here." Lu fell back to her stomach and crawled. They met face to face on the middle of the rock. "The water is too far down, momma looks scared when I go near the edge. I'm staying here until... the tide..." her cutesy legs gave away a second time. The deer-like Sent had a green coat, a mark of summertime. When a deerling falls ill, the vibrant colors slowly grey. Lu swore the green was fading in front of her eyes.

"Hey. Hey!" Lu smiled encouragingly and nudged the tired deerling's side to keep her awake. Lu brought herself over the child to provide some much-needed shade. How could Lu convince the child to swim back? She thought of a young Lu, when her name was short for riolu. What would get her off the rock? In a moment, she knew. "Did you know that not all the rocks out her started out white? One of them was black like a normal rock."

"Really?" Even scared, it took only a note of excitement to make a child interested in a story.

"Yeah, this one. Wanna know how it turned white?"

"S-sure."

Lu leaned in close and whispered the answer. In no more than ten seconds the deerling was clinging to her back, begging to get off the rock.

A displeased politoed swam up to them. Lu recognized the look on his face as that of a dissatisfied customer. "Leave it to a lucario," he said, "always swooping in, thinking they've 'saved the day' when all they've saved is a Punisher-to-be. Must feel good to save that rat's kid, huh? Maybe you ought to skip ahead a little and start killing Novans yourself." The rude thing swam closer. Lu didn't like his attitude.

"I don't care if it you're a toad," Lu replied, getting ready for the jump. "If you come anywhere near us, I'll do my best to drown you." The politoed moved away as quick as he came, unwilling to be killed for the sake of throwing out more insults. Where her own awful words came from, she didn't know. Maybe it was a motherly thing. The whole crisis made Lu feel furious for the first time in her life. "Remember to buy your meats from Paws's Place!" She called out, a strong clamp tied around that anger. Then she jumped into the water - the cold splash helped to wake up the child - and returned the deerling to her mother.

Fab was besides herself with gratitude. No sooner did the snuffling deerling run up to the espeon, that she was pleading Lu to join her den for lunch. Lu walked, her feet moving their distracted owner forward. After encountering that politoed, the water dripping from her pelt felt unclean. They managed to strike up a conversation.

"And that's when I figured out why my name still fit," Lu said, finishing up a summary of her morning.

Months on the trail with Paws's chortle made Fab's laughter sound like music. "Wow! I remember my newbody days like yesterday. Full of silly accidents and slips like yours. And as far as I'm concerned, they deserved it. The whole lot of them, Lu." They bypassed the market. Instead they chose to go straight to the stone buildings of Whitestone, which were sculpted from the city's namesake - Fab didn't want anything to do with any Sents other than her children and Lu. For good reason. The Sents in the water had left her child to suffer. "How did you get Fawnis off the rock?" Fab asked. The water from the swim cooled the deerling off. She was sleeping now, draped across her den mother's back.

Lu grinned. "I told her the rock used to not be white. Not till seagulls began to use it as a bathroom."

"And that worked?!" Fab forced herself to quit gaping.

"Children don't know the world like we do. Sometimes the only way they'll know if something went wrong is if you cry with them. Fawnis saw you panicking and thought it wasn't safe to jump in the water." It was easy to tell that Fab was quietly taking notes. "And another tip: don't take them swimming if you can't swim yourself."

The espeon stopped. Shame forced her shoulders to sag. "R-right. That makes sense. But the children were begging me. The ones who were abandoned by their parents wanted to touch the sand for the first time. And the others like Fawnis... their families used to bring them down to the beach. I want them to be happy, that's why I volunteered to be a den mother. I just don't know what I'm doing. There's no training for such a thing as motherhood." Fab jolted up, startling Lu. "Try as I might, Whitestone is still the rowdiest town in the West. If the Sents here believe a den mother plans to volunteer her children as Punishers... then they refuse to offer even the smallest bits of help." Lu saw that firsthand at the beach. "Right now they're content to let things run their course. Any moment now, Whitestone might try to harm its children. Harming children for something they can't help. When I volunteered, I never even considered the sick thoughts I am now."

"My teacher Paws and I come here to trade. I think we'll avoid this place from now on," Lu said. It humbled her to find that the city had tricked her. Rows upon rows of traveling merchants, their chatter loud enough to hide the grumbling of their customers. After lunch with Fab, Lu would tell Paws this story. She hoped those who scared Fab would never get to eat boar again.

"That's for the best," the den mother said. "And it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. The only way Atlas is getting my children is over my dead body." Lu's ears had flopped at that promise. Fab realized that she was upsetting her guest. "Now let's go eat! Today's rations have this special sort of mango..."

She continued to sulk along silently, giving Fab's talk about food only half her attention.

A night run seemed fitting up until Allworthy did a recount of who was in the woods. Traveling from evening to daybreak promised disaster. In the forest that evening was his troupe, two talented warriors, a dangerous guard-dog, and a child in charge of a dangerous power. Not to mention Ferals, bandits, rebels, and poisonous animals that posed a real danger to Sents. To that, Allworthy thanked Arceus for allowing him to step this far into 'Murder Woods'.

And it earned the name Murder Woods. The clearing he chose for camp also hosted the half-eaten body of a stag. He knew from a glance that the meat missing was enough for two. Still, he ordered Heetz to quit pitying himself and investigate. It might have looked cruel. Yet he had done the furret a larger service than he deserved. When in service, nobody had the time to pay attention to personal issues. Their own, in particular. So every minute Heetz licked his wounds, the lower he ranked in the social ladder. When the other Punishers saw him working so soon after a lashing, they nodded at him approvingly. In fact, his brother's embarrassment started to make him the weaker sibling.

Heetz even did a good job on the stag.

"It, agh..." he growled and tried to scratch his wounds. Nasfereet shook his head. "Sorry. The stag succumbed to injuries to his chest. Whatever did it has two giant fangs. Spaced far apart."

"Or two spikes, one on each hand," Allworthy suggested. "Like a certain 'cario we know."

"Could be, commander. May I turn in?" To his credit, the furret had trouble keeping his eyes open. His body begged for some time to recover.

"Sure. Dream of me, will ya?" Heetz muttered something as he walked away. Allworthy let the comment slide. He turned to the weavile. "Looks like we're the third troupe ever to get close to Tobi. The other two didn't do too well. Any ideas about this lucario? I'd like to get the do-gooder out of the way."

Nasfereet considered his words. "Her name is Lu, short for her breed. Hard to say if she's friend or foe to Atlas. Besides that awful incident in Whitestone," he said, blatantly not thinking it too awful, "we have little information. Except that she's been around."

Of course. What else could he expect besides information he wasn't allowed to know? "Been around? Doing magic shows or something? I'm not going after Tobi unless I know what she can do."

"The most I can tell you is that she's clever and strong. If she joined with us this very day, she would outrank you." If Nasfereet cooked, all his dishes would have a taste of underhandedness. Why the weavile needed to insult him at every turn was beyond the herdier. "And don't think of throwing your newest toy at her. Look at the stag if you want to see how she fares against large prey."

Basil turned at the mention of her name. "I bet Lu ain't short for riolu nor lucario. Nae parent wants to name their kid that efficient." The zangoose had been looking over her mom's letter since they pitched up camp. A decree and three recipients of immunity were the only contents. Yet Basil ran a claw over it again and again, her brow furrowed with concentration.

"No one asked you, you lard sculpture! Now do as your told and face away from me. Your test swelled her pride up, commander. She's been giving these crackpot opinions left and right since we've left."

"What, uh, 'stupid' opinions would these be?"

"Arceus! You're deferring to the fat brute. Our ranks aren't in dire need of another Bonecrusher."

Allworthy laughed. "If you keep pushing her, she'll snap your neck before you can scream 'Willard'." The thought made Nasfereet swallow loudly.

Before Nasfereet could retort, Allworthy's scouts returned from the forest. "I'm just saying," He heard Sans say, "it would be famous to work near a beach."

"I'm telling you: snow or no snow, the mainland's best." The sawsbuck trotted forward and stood at attention. "We'll be safe on a single watch. No one's around us," she said. Allworthy nodded, and the two scouts resumed their conversation.

"You have that season-changing fur. That harms your judgment some." Sans nodded towards her white-furred chest.

"You're right. Maybe I like Winter, because in Spring I have flowers growing out of my antlers." The two laughed as they retired to the clearing. The troupe welcomed them in.

Allworthy yawned himself. "We're waking bright and early tomorrow. Nasfereet the Rude for first watch - all in favor?" His troupe yelled in favor of the motion. The weavile tried to sway the vote with a snarl. The older Punishers feigned terror. Different day, same routine.

Allworthy gave the weavile a sly grin. "By the way, I'm not scared of being outranked. The thing is, Sents like Lu don't sign up as Punishers. Too nice for their own good."

"You'd be surprised at who she's kept as company," Nasfereet answered, before he could moderate himself. Allworthy was too tired to torture the weavile over this slip-up. 

The snow chilled his belly as he retired himself to a spot in the clearing. For the most part, though, he preferred the dirt and the chill to the inn.

*, 1: Oh ho ho, I'm so clever

*, 2: I missed a golden opportunity here. An imu pit would've been awesome. I didn't know how it would work on the beach, so I went with a rotisserie, because it matches a Novan's native tongue.

*, 3: I'm so sorry if this isn't how it works. Sorry on the Settlers' part, that is; it's their choice.

Feedback appreciated.


	5. Maga's Dance, part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter five of Punishments.

Five years ago

Maga did his best to remember his manners. He hadn't much else. A knapsack, his filth, and two tassels dangling from his paws. He compared that to the estate in front of him. The soot in their fireplace belonged in this palace more than he did, he concluded. A few shakes of his head righted him, and cut off the nonsense from his broken esteem. Tempranillo had invited him. By definition he had a right to stand in the oak halls.

Months of harsh travel made Maga uncomfortable with the design. To the left a patio; the right, a fuller veranda; even straight ahead, a pathway exposed to the elements; it was maddening to be in a sunny place without it beating down on his back. Maga walked onto the pathway. He crouched down and spotted the beams supporting the home. The start of Tempranillo's vineyards laid well out of the building's shade. A little slip from here could maim him; whether or not that warranted a no-walls path, Maga was too focused on not dying to answer.

A family of three lived in the palace. How did they find each other in the maze of wood and furniture? Maga finished his balancing act and entered a grand hall. The ornate hall hit his eyes like caviar to a stomach surviving on hardtack.

"Hello?" He called. It felt wrong to see the place unoccupied by servants. Places like this warranted a few. "It's Maga! I'm here to answer your inquest."

A braixen flew out from a hall on the ground floor. He came from the left. But dramatically, as though he entered stage right. His claws strangled the neck of a wine bottle. Without even blinking, the braixen tossed it away. Maga winced. Selling shaped glass like that could feed him for a week.

No crash came. Instead, the braixen caught it mid-cartwheel. Not a single drop spilled. It all happened in such a rush, Maga didn't know what to do besides gape.

"Welcome. Foremost rule of my father's vineyard," the braixen said, taking a swig. "Don't spill a drop."

The fox taught Maga what it meant to carry nobility. Never had he seen such a quiet creature move so confidently on its feet. He captured the mienshao's attention, and he never even asked for it. "This is a white wine made from rkatsiteli grapes*. The finish is strong, so it's best to drink with sweets." The wine made a wet noise as it trickled down his throat. There wasn't a sweet to be seen in the grand hall.

"I will keep that in mind," Maga replied. It was eccentric, sure. To Maga, It seemed like a bit of honest fun. It was a family of foxes, after all. "Are you Tempranillo's son?"

"His only. My name is Tobias. I prefer Tobi as long as we're out of business. And you?"

"Maganè. Most I meet prefer Maga."

"Mah-gah-nay. Like mahogany. Our respective parents named us well." Tobi drew a stick from his tail. It had the notches and width typical to the part of the branch closest to the tree. A clean finish outed it as a close replica of a nature-made stick. "This way," he said, pointing the stick. Maga followed its point to the hallway Tobi entered from. "My father and my teacher are making preparations. They'll have you soon - you're all they spoke about this morning."

The white wine suited Tobi well. Both of them shared a light-bodiedness and an opaque texture. Maga resisted the temptation to reach out for the braixen. He wanted to see if the wispy creature worked around his arm like a thick plume of smoke.

Maga realized that Tobi was waiting on his answer. "Oh," he said, pulled away from his thoughts. "I'm sorry."

"Are you sorry to hold my family's attention?" Tobi asked. "Is there something unworthy about you?"

Only in his own head, Maga reasoned. He had to keep his words checked and his head high. "No. It must have been boring to hear about a stranger over your breakfast. Ah?" Tobi had grabbed his arm. The wet nose traveled, tassel to shoulder. It had been years since he came this close to another Sent. Outside of when he was crammed into a mining tunnel, or forced into a scrap.

The braixen finished at his neck. "You washed yourself in Meeble River? My family owns a bathhouse, here in Meeble. We send our same servants that manage our estate to operate it in the afternoon."

Maga politely backed away from the fox. "I couldn't afford the bathhouse," he said, embarrassed. "Is it that obvious?"

Tobi licked his chops and grinned. "Yes. The smell of salmon gave you away. Not that this is bad on its own. But since you've still got a layer of dust clinging to your pelt, along with that knapsack... I'm afraid to say you'd make a fine part of flotsam."

Maga opened his mouth to explain his poorness. Two claws wrapped around his muzzle and stopped him. He swallowed an urge to rip the dainty hands into ribbons. Tobi ought to know better than to grab a stranger's mouth - maybe a single child's upbringing had stunted his social skills. "No, we can fix it in time. Come into my room!"

Which was as big as quarters meant to keep a dozen mid-sized Sents, and far more exciting. Somehow, the fact that Tobi had his own room shocked him more than three foxes sharing a giant estate. Even before he left home, he had bunked with four of his clambering, dusty ilk. After seeing the spotless room, he knew why his eldest brother mentioned the clutter every turn. Tobi's room was inerrant.

His parents had filled the space with amenities, ranging from a filled bathtub to an easel. Resting half-finished on the easel was a self-portrait of Tobi. Roughly sketched, but good enough to show real practice, and it didn't take a lot of skill to make Tobi's likeness approachable. A recent painting over his bed (which had springs!) was the only thing Maga recognized. A before-and-after of Tobi's evolution, fennekin to braixen. These were churned out for five hundred pokè and left to the charge of an apprentice. Although the oil paints revealed that it wasn't a discounted piece. If Maga hadn't evolved with tassels, there would be a cheaper one of himself hung on the wall of his family's den.

Tobi nudged him over to the bath. "A moment, father!" He called. "Our guest needs a decent bath. And, uh, I'm helping."

"That is too much," Maga admitted. "You're not helping me bathe!"

Tobi surprised Maga by relenting. "Whatever," he said. "Relax and give me a moment." His tail waggled as he rustled through his nightstand. An actual nightstand. The chilled wine left a ring of water on the top. The only purpose it served was to be a flat surface on level with the bed; since most Sents had the luck to sleep on beds of hay, or in cots, a nightstand was furniture for the furniture.

It also held a small fortune in its second drawer. Tobi tossed the bag onto the bed. It jingled, several hundred-pokè coins spilling onto the covers.

The braixen saved him a question. "It's ten thousand pokè. A month of my allowance."

"A month?!" Maga asked, his voice hoarse. Just staring at the money left him parched. He had more hope of running into Arceus at the bazaar than seeing this amount of money in a single place.

"It's yours. All you have to do is leave through my window. I'll tell my father that our house made you nervous." It was a half-lie; the palace did make Maga nervous. So did the small fortune inches from his paws. "I don't have time to explain why you must leave. Paying you is faster." Tobi finally had some weight to him. To Maga, the wistful Sent started to become quite real. Ears pinned to his head, concerned eyes locked onto his guest's. The diffidence that made him curl up was the same that slumped Maga over as he traveled, city to city, just to hear the same thing. That they would wait for the female dancers.

Before an answer could be offered, a voice echoed in the hall. "Tobias!" It had to be Sarsaparilla's. "Enough sprucing up!"

"C-coming, father!" Tobi yelled. "What's wrong with you? Take the money and go." Tobi pushed the fortune into Maga's paws. The sheer weight of it!

Ten thousand pokè. Just slamming it down in front of his father would be satisfying. And he could spin a hundred different tales, each honorable enough to earn him acceptance. It was moments like these Maga wished he was a no-good liar. He returned the money. "Thank you for the offer, but I came here to dance."

"He's going to have me light you on fire!" Tobi hissed.

Refusing the money upfront broke its spell over the mienshao. "Huh. That didn't take too long to explain. Don't worry, it's not the worst job I've been offered."

It took a moment for the rejection to settle in. "You're a dumbass," the braixen muttered. The insult was the best the deflated thing could muster. From the inflection, Maga knew he wasn't well-practiced with bad words. It sounded wavy and flat compared to the things one could hear outside of the oak palace. Maga smiled apologetically. He wasn't lying when he said he wanted to dance.

"Tobias, he needn't be spotless behind the ears," Tempranillo called. "Bring him forward." Tobi grabbed Maga's arm and tugged, his softness forgotten.

"It's your funeral," he said. Maga wondered if the braixen's hemming and hawing would continue on in front of his father. Yet Tobi reacquired his poise in a few angry stomps. His grip let up, his ears perked up, his tail wagged excitedly. When he shoved the door open and cried, "here we are, father," no one would ever suspect that he would pay ten thousand pokè to avoid the meeting.

Tempranillo waited in a padded chair on the other end of the room. Which, as Maga stepped around the large space, he recognized as a studio. The floors were more polished here and oiled down to prevent splinters. Unlike the other dozen rooms of the palace, blinds shunted any light coming from outside. A brazier provided what little light there was. Two shapes sat back in the gloom covering the studio.

He caught the scent of burning wood, thinking for a moment about Tobi's warning. This scent turned out to be that of Tempranillo himself. The locals of Meeble said that he used to be a warrior, coming from a long line of Orchidians who fought on the side of Atlas. It made sense, then, for the delphox's coat to be covered in a scent not unlike simmering wood. It was a pheromone released by eminent Sents, called stolthet*, to tell those close-by that a leader was in their midst. He wore a robe dampened in lavender oil to hide the scent. To his distress, the

The delphox set aside his glass and leaned forward. In the dark, he was a great silhouette with intense red eyes. He petrified Maga with his stare. The mienshao felt like prey to the magnificent Sent. If his son had been a wisp, then Tempranillo would be a ghoul, assigned to thoroughly haunt Maga with his nobility.

"Finally," Tempranillo said. "Pardon the stench. It has been years since I sheathed my claws, and I have all but resigned to the fact I will never be rid of it. Away from the action, stolthet is a damned burden." He curled a single claw. "Closer. I wish to inspect the answer to my inquiry. You too, Tobias. Would you pour me another glass? I am wondering if I should discontinue my pursuit of the rkatsiteli grape."

"Father, I like it," Tobi said. "And I left it on my nightstand. Excuse me." Tempranillo nodded. He turned to Maga and curled a second claw. Maga began to get the impression he was counting down, and at the end he would burn him to ashes with a flick of his wand. Even so he had foiled the braixen's plan, Tobi still gave him an encouraging look as they parted from each other's side. "He's just a Sent like you," Tobi whispered. "Don't let him scare you." Maga nodded, meek as he went towards Tobi's father.

He nearly slipped when Tempranillo barked with laughter. The figure in the other seat, silent until that moment, jolted fitfully. "Of course you do. You have always stuck your tongue out at the heavier wines." The double doors slammed shut. "Ah," he said, once Maga was close, "so it is true. You are a male with tassels."

The fear helped him. Without it, he would have become defensive. "I am. I perform as well as any of my sisters," he couldn't resist adding.

"Life must not be easy for you." He curled a third claw. Maga shambled forward until he was in arm's reach. The stolthet became nigh-unbearable. The robe did a poor job up close, and it also failed to hide the delphox's strength. His fangs alone seemed ready to puncture stone.

"I get by," Maga said.

He got a first-hand look at the reason for Tobi's intrusiveness. The outreached claw moved upward, pushing into Maga's mouth. Tempranillo tapped each tooth. Then he pinched the mienshao's tongue between his fingers.

If offered again, Maga would have had a much harder time refusing the money.

Tobi appeared somewhere during the inspection. "I see you're inspecting his temperament," Tobi said, for Maga's sake. He poured out a glass of wine. The braixen was doing his best to make up for his father.

Without releasing the tongue in his grasp, Tempranillo looked up at the mienshao. "This is how I recruited members to my troupe, long ago. Sents aren't used to being touched anywhere. Our mouths are the most private." He paused, taking a long drink with his free claw. "It is just too acidic - not our mouths, the wine. When we are young, our parents touch our faces. Often while we eat or try to speak to them. It is to teach us how to trust. Atlasans, Prowlies and orphans everywhere bite, unless the last had a competent den mother. Novans are nasty, they tend to probe - meaninglessly, which I suppose is better than a Roaken studying my claw. Orchidians? They tend to be the most patient." Another drink. "Of course, there is more to most of us than our nationality. For example, your parents raised you to be patient, which is key for the sort of artistry Orchidia is known for. But how do you factor in? You are trying to push the tip of your tongue through the space between my digits. Considering who we are to each other... you must be at your wit's end. Am I right?"

The delphox didn't relent. Maga eyes turned away shamefully. This acted as his answer.

"As I thought. Do not lie to me and say 'you get by'. There is no shame in wanting a break after so many years of foul luck." Then, as if the sun had broken through the gloomy room, Tempranillo smiled welcomingly. He let the tongue slip past his claw as he retreated. Tobi was there in an instant, tending to his father's claw with a towelette. "You will have guessed it by now. I have more stake in this than a simple dance. Rotting in the rancor of stolthet has given me to a new sort of leadership. Politics, in short. But for now," he said, pointing himself to the other figure, "Clarity, you may inspect him."

No other name could jolt Maga with as much force. "Clarity?" He asked.

"Well done," Clarity cried. "What a technique!" Upon seeing the female mienshao, Maga's instincts pushed him up to full height. The tassels on his arms meant it was easiest to slump and allow them to drag. Two years couldn't make him forget the boundaries he grew up by. "Oh," she said instantly. "Do bend over again. I hadn't meant to startle you with my presence. There was simply no time to introduce myself."

"Clarity. It's good to see you again," Maga admitted. It was hard to keep his joy in check. Clarity hummed and began a much nicer inspection of Maga. "How are my sisters?"

She was a scout always looking out for members of her breed, who shared her love of the arts. Not only by breed, but gender; Maga had ran from home before Clarity could give her opinion on Maga's 'decision'. It was one of the few hopes he held onto. If a mienshao with such influence as her approved of his choice, it would be easier to find work. It stupefied him to know that she was not only working with a male dancer, but a male braixen. Tempranillo was right: he had been praying for a break like this.

"The tales of the ocean made in Plage Whitestone infatuated your older sister. I could tell she was swept away, so I left her in the charge of a friend who could help her understand her love for the water. Your younger sister, her journey proved that she had the potential to surpass your older sister. Yet fate would have her taken from me before she found a place that truly inspired her."

"An injury?" Maga asked quietly, forlorn, but with a touch of hope.

Clarity shook her head. "Punished."

His younger sister was a mienfoo, the last time he saw her. "Oh." Pangs of guilt threatened to tear his stomach apart. Tempranillo offered him the rest of his wine, delivered by his somber son. Maga took the glass and emptied it into his stomach. "They say it's not useful to dwell on the Punished. W-we can continue our business."

The way she worked over his tassels showed off years of experience. "Ah," she cooed. "I imagine that you have been a vagabond following your escape?" He nodded. "And that you have worked their nasty jobs?" Another nod, after some hesitation. "How many time have you lost your ribbons?" The proper name for his tassels threw him for a loop.

"O-often," he blurted. "I tried to fold them, but the mines pull them loose anyways. And in the mine, and out of it, they would swing their picks and other tools at my tas- my ribbons on purpose." The luck in it was that only the part closes to his paws felt any pain. And they grew back in a few days. Surprisingly, Tobi was the one who gasped upon hearing this. Guilt tugged at Tobi's upbeat mood, weighing down his smile along with the news of Maga's sister. He shot Maga an understanding look, as if to say I get it now. The sentiment spurred the mienshao onward in his complaints. "As if it wasn't bad enough, everyone made it so hard to-"

"Have some pride, Maga," Tempranillo said. "You may confide in my son after our demonstration. In private. He too can discuss his reasons for attempting to bribe you. Perhaps you can come to the conclusion that the respective reasons for your low confidences are silly." Tobi lived with his father, and yet even he was surprised. Tempranillo had to be omniscient, or at least very close to such a state. "You act as though I have not done my fair share of hijinks. And since you have tried to spend your money on a fool's errand, I suppose you will not complain to see me take it back."

"Father, I am not ready," Tobi pleaded. He didn't seem the least bit upset over the money. "The last dancer you found... I burned her. She's still recovering."

Tempranillo sighed. A heavy, gusty breath of air that made the room smell slightly like wine. "She panicked, Tobias, by no fault of your own. Now we have a dancer who, if I heard right, is not afraid to lose his tassels."

"Since your son has his wand, and Maga his ribbons," Clarity said, closing in on Maga's legs, "those in my profession would refer to them as rhythmics."

The correction seemed to annoy the delphox. "Dancer or rhythmic, it is the same."

"As I just explained: not exactly," Clarity said.

"No. I meant that Maga and I - you and I," he said, addressing the mienshao, "both carry the title of the family iconoclast. My own line has its barriers set on the lines between genders. Our breed, the fokko*, use objects as a medium for our flames. Females make use of a wand - mostly for appearances. Males, a staff made of either oak or a lighter form of iron mined here in Meeble. I am sure if my inquest failed to reach you, you would be harvesting some for my cousins in the East. Want to know why males used a staff? Because we lack fluff in our ears and our hems are less puffy. When I served my time under Atlas, I decided that I would be the first to rid myself of this tradition. I won this vineyard through a duel with my brother. His devotion to the old ways burned as fiercely as his weapon. I had less range, using a wand, but my brother kept his flame at the far end of a stick. I was conditioned to having my own flames lick my claws. I wrenched the fiery staff from his claws as he swung at me. Broke it between my jaws!" Tempranillo barked with laughter. "I am fortunate that evolving into a delphox removed the scars of my reckless days. Maga, tell me: do you know why we call ourselves Sents?"

Maga never considered it. He tried now, but couldn't find its relevancy to the discussion at hand. "I don't know," he answered.

This seemed to be the answer Tempranillo expected, for he spoke straight after the answer. "It is short for our whole race. Sentient."

That shocked the mienshao. "Now that I think about it... I've always heard others say it represented how Arceus sent us to this world."

"No!" Tempranillo shouted, losing his calm. Clarity was focused in her work, yet still yelped. Tobi retreated to Maga's side. "That is the opposite of the real reason! A long time ago, centuries about, Sents lived under the original name.

"What name?" Maga asked. He hoped his shaking didn't ruin Clarity's inspection.

"Pokémon." The delphox allowed time for the word to sink in. "Now, this name shows respect to Arceus. Pokéterra is the name we gave to the world, so to name ourselves Pokémon is to claim that we were given the same treatment. But the past few centuries changed us. Our ancestors realized something while they suffered through the Punishments, the Ferals, the Disasters - we had no right to be treated like property. We are Sentient," he said, easing Maga into the idea, "and we make our own paths. We refused the idea that the Legendary who began us, owned us." Tempranillo's stolthet grew stronger still. "It is time, Maga. We must reject these silly Pokémon traditions similarly. I thought my son would be alone in this. With you, however? You and my son will introduce Pokéterra to a new type of dancer. Or rythmic," he added grudgingly, "together. Clarity! Enough inspecting. I am too anxious to wait much longer."

Roused by the speech, she put her entire body into a single nod. "What luck! I have always believed ribbons to grow coarse. Maga might have lost some grace, but his ribbons are the supplest I have seen. This has a good chance of being wonderful!" The words gave Maga a burst of much-needed confidence. "Tobi, get ready."

"Y-yes, teacher."

"Don't be so nervous," Clarity chastised. "You have the bagatelle of the routine. Maga, when Tempranillo kills the fire in the brazier, Tobi will light your left ribbon aflame." A sudden fear gripped Maga. That 'good chance' Clarity mentioned started to seem risky. "No, no don't balk at the task. If you spin your ribbon at the right pace, the flame will never harm you."

The idea made no sense to the mienshao. "What? Are you certain it won't burn me?"

"As I am of all the performances I create."

"This is crazy," Tobi whined. "Please don't make me do this." He seemed ready to sob.

Maga felt Tempranillo's words course through him like electricity. "I want this," he told the braixen. "I want you to be my partner in this dance. Even if all you are doing is watching, can you do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Don't let me out of your sight. Assure me that I am doing it right. Because by the time I know, it'll be too late."

Then, an impatient Tempranillo blew out the brazier with a wave of his wand. The studio became a world of black. Only Tobi's wand, now aflame, broke the darkness. Maga stretched out his left arm. Tobi reached forward and, shakily, lit the mienshao's tassel on fire.

"Spin!" Clarity whispered. "Remain calm."

He spun his tassels once. He practiced in between towns, but never under so much stress. The first spin was painless; the second, the fire lashed out and attacked his side. Panic seized him. He wasn't ready for this. He was going to burn. Maga closed his eyes and did a third spin, this one even more painful than the last. The more the fire traveled up his arm, the more volatile the motion became. By the fifth spin, he had singed the fur on his side. He closed his eyes, harder.

"O-open your eyes," he heard Tobi say. "I made the fire. I made it. It won't hurt you unless I want it to." A lie, but one that got Maga to open his eyes. The braixen had taken his time finding the right words. The fire flickered in the braixen's eyes, wheeling in and out. The dance itself could look how it wanted, his side could wait. All of it could be in the background to the fire burning in Tobi's eyes. The motion he did. It instilled strength in the meek fox. Two years of frustrations led to this. Him realizing that he would never succeed in being a rhythmic like his sisters. They spun tranquil patterns. He could fall in line, or he could go his own way. Too long, others had burned him. Why not fight fire with fire?

Maga spun his ribbon faster. The fire ceased to be a problem. It was captured by Maga, and spun beautifully in his control.

"It is working," Tempranillo said, an excited pant parting his words. "Amazing. Yes, yes, keeping going."

Clarity clapped her paws together. "Beautiful, Maga! This will change everything! It is so beautiful..."

Maga nodded. Those words didn't matter as much as Tobi's face. Their confidences peaked. No slumping, no ears pinned behind the head.

"It is," Tobi said. "It is..."

"That's pretty," Bleak said. "But why are you doing it?" The charmander coughed. A sick kind of cough, not a typical cold.

Maga stopped spinning his tassels. They had pushed aside the inches of snow between him and the dirt. Somewhere in their march, he had fallen into the past. What a nice memory. The thrill of the dance faded. So did the fire warming his body. Worst of all, he couldn't reclaim the features of Tobi's face. Two years apart had taken the details from his memory, yet dying had brought them back. He could almost blame Bleak for stopping him.

The two had come to know each other by the silence they gave. Talking ruined their fragile alliance. "Why were you..." Bleak fell into a coughing fit. It almost sounded like heaving, a noise no healthy child would make. "Why?" He managed between coughs.

"None of your business. It..." doesn't matter anymore, were the words he wanted to say. But it did. "It's more fur coming in through the floorboard. The cold makes it hard to tell. But I think I'm close."

"Close to?"

"My chance at the Unending Hunt." He hoped there would be time to dance.

The two marched forward. The trees began to spread their stumps - they had walked towards the other end of the woods. Maga teared himself away from the daydreams. The spinning had reopened another cut on his back. Now, two bled. The agony made it harder and harder to resist a visit to Tempranillo's estate. Perhaps he could travel to a different time... maybe their first performance...

But he wasn't the only one suffering. Bleak fell forward into the snow. He coughed so violently, Maga thought he had begun to choke on the powdered ice. Instead, the child scrambled to his feet. "What's wrong with you?" Maga asked, walking past him.

"My siblings splashed water on me once, when they didn't know better," Bleak answered. "I got warmer then. I'm not getting warmer, here. I... is this how it feels to other Sents? This cold?"

Maga growled. "Damn. Let me take a look at you, whelp." He couldn't crouch, so he threw himself into a strange kneel. "Your tail's rekindled. There's nothing wrong with you." It was too tiring to hide his doubt. Although Bleak had managed to stand up again, he seemed due for a second collapse. If Maga didn't deal with this setback, then there would be no speaking to Willard. No clearing his name. Besides: this was about honor, and honor told Maga not to take a child with him to the Unending Hunt. "Okay, fine, you're sick." Bleak nodded slightly. "Do you have a cover?"

"I left one in the brook. You left my back-up in the mud."

"Then I have to make you a scarf. Give me back the contract." The charmander forced his claws open. Maga took the contract by the hilt.

Some emotion rushed back into the charmander. "It's excited," he said, referring to the contract. "What are you planning?"

"Not having fun," Maga replied. All his other injuries made it hard to position himself. After a few curses, the contract's blade found its way to his left tassel. He had to go from the top, and there wasn't a reason to hold back. "Get me a thick branch." Bleak complied as quick as his sick legs could carry him. "Now put it in my mouth. Can't have someone hearing me scream like a wimp."

The branch had a minty taste. He bit down into it and sawed into his tassel. Pain bolted through every part of him. The gashes on his back flared up, as if to say hey, were we not enough for you? A muffled whimper escaped his mouth. It was a mercy they were thin from hunger; the first tassel dropped faster than expected, and he started on the next.

Bleak started at the mienshao as he wrapped the tassels around him. Blood leaked from the cut segments. "It's warmer," he said. "Thank you."

For a moment, Maga thought his time had come. The nausea passed by with time. "Don't mention it," he muttered. He rose into his slump and trudged onward.

It didn't take much trudging to find Bleak's teacher. Maga smelt injuries besides his own. There was a large distance between the trees, this close to the edge, but Maga caught sight of the teacher after passing a wide oak tree. He was too late to stop Bleak from freezing, his eyes locked on the scene. A kadabra roused from its deathbed atop a mound of snow. Something had clamped around her gut. Squeezed, until it had broke flesh on both sides. The wound, even from a distance, looked like a fatal blow. It wasn't a wound one could hold for three weeks, as Maga did. This was the last place the kadabra would see.

"Bleak," she gasped. "Where... where have you been?" The charmander shambled forward and sat down near the dying kadabra.

"Teacher Missan. None of us look too good." Bleak was too cold, tassels notwithstanding, to express his terror.

"No, child." She made a hoarse noise like a chuckle.

"Someone caught me," he said, pointing at Maga.

"Me too. This Punisher scum," she spat, addressing the mienshao, "is rarer than my killer. How are you here, 'Chief' Maga?"

Maga snarled. "Story's too long. You'll be dead before I finish." Bleak whipped around. Somehow, he had kept the fantasy that this kadabra had a shot of surviving. Still, the disparate look he gave the mienshao made him curb his anger. No use scrapping with a dying Roake. "I want you to tell Bleak how to fix my relay orb. I must speak to Willard."

The kadabra rested her hand on Bleak's. "Or you could take responsibility. This talented child - did you douse his fire?"

The question threw Maga off course. "Maybe."

"It's too cold. He has been fortunate in rekindling it, but it's only a matter of time before it dwindles." So many words. Maga realized that he was about to receive her last wishes. A Roaken's last wishes. It took every ounce of respect for the dying, a lot of it being earned in his last three weeks, not to interrupt. "So, I could help him with the orb. You chat up the Sent who killed you. Then we all die. Or you take the reviver seed in my pack, buy a few hours for yourself, and save Bleak by taking him to my outpost." A reviver seed. A stop-all to any ailment for a few hours. One could hobble with one leg and no arms, so long as the enchanted chia seed helped them along.

Bleak crawled forward and reached behind the kadabra. He slipped, staining his stomach on Missan's injury. "You helped me make this," he said, showing her the seed. "I want you to use it."

She shook her head. "I'm too far gone. Casey are known for their minds. Not their bodies. I'll waste my hours crawling."

He shoved it into her mouth. "No you aren't."

"Yes, I am," she growled, spitting it out.

"No, you aren't!" He picked it up and tried again. "Maga will carry you." The mienshao wanted to remove himself from that promise, but the scene struck him silent.

"Bleak! Please! You are too special to lose. And because of this fool, he must take it. Lest we lose your mind." She lifted her head up to get a better look at Chief Maga. It was her nation that stole everything he had from under his feet. "We were ambushed by a group of Atlasans. Listen - not Punishers, a troupe trained for war. Go far around the destroyed camp straight ahead. They'll be waiting. Then go straight ahead until you spot pink in the distance."

Maga couldn't help asking. "Pink?" Having grown up in Orchidia, it took him but a moment to understand. "Cherry Blossom? That's a Punishment!"

"A rumor created by my team," Missan replied. "There is an outpost there. If you take the seed and leave now, you will make it by daybreak."

The charmander struggled to his feet. He walked to Maga and shoved the contents of his hands into Maga's paws. "Here," he said. This situation, not all that happened before, was what made Bleak angry. A tear rolled down his face. He mopped it up with a tassel. "We have to get moving. Missan said so." Maga noticed that the orb and contract were in his right paw. Would Missan refuse to help him with it? He could force the charmander to figure it out. In his left, the seed. Did he want to live for a few more hours? Did he have a reason to survive, a fugitive trapped in Atlasan territory?

The answer came to him quickly. He took a deep breath, the weight of the choice rushing new blood through his body.

Missan assumed that his interest meant he had accepted. She pulled a book from her pack. Trembling, she held it towards Maga. "Your mind is your most precious possession." Her breaths became labored. Bleak found the strength to whine. "Please. Preserve mine."

Maga walked forward. The reviver seed flew up into his mouth with a deft flick. He kicked the book out of her hands. The yelp he received was too satisfying.

He laughed. "Fuck your mind," he said, exuberance and energy coursing through him. "That revenge will sate my hate of your kind, while I drag this whelp around."

And after he dropped Bleak off, he had a fox to find.

*, 1: I don't drink, but I find the De Long varietal table very fascinating. I chose rkatsiteli as the grape for the white wine for the name, the Russian implication, and the name. The details aren't completely factual, or at the least don't give the full story of this grape. Tempranillo, by the way, is a grape used to make a more full-bodied wine.

*, 2: Norwegian for pride. God, I hope that's true. It made sense for such a thing to go by a term coined in Atlas.

*, 3: When a Pokémon has multiple evolutions, the overarching breed is referred to by the Japanese name of their first evolution. In this case: fennekin = fokko.

If you're silently reading, that's fine. Remember, though: this story is write-as-I-go. If you have an questions or concerns with the direction, reviewing {{will}} make a difference. Basically? Feedback appreciated.


	6. Before the First Battle

Following their new trail led the two hunters to a single point at the South end of the forest. The Pack bond they shared meant that neither of them could be mistaken about their discovery. Even from far away, it wasn't hard to place where the sounds of the forest had ceased to exist, replaced by an uncomfortable silence. Something unnatural dominated the space ahead of them, an out-of-place sensation, and Lu knew it well. Whenever an animal - breakfast came to mind - died, the life of the forest seeped over the death like water into a pocket of air. Yet the silence up ahead, with its scent of chilled blood, wasn't a loss any natural forest could replace.

Tobi skidded to a stop the moment Lu pieced together the anomaly. The revelation occurred to them at the same time. "You think it's-"

"A Sent's body," she finished. "Yeah, seems that way. The creatures around here are scared to go near the body. And there are many hungry creatures in this forest that desperately need the meat, so you can be sure it doesn't add up." Lu decided to rejoin Tobi's side. She paced herself, knowing that this was going to take some time for the braixen to overcome. Tobi's parents probably raised him the best they could, yet the corpses of Sents always revealed his sheltered childhood.

"You could be mistaken. It could be a wolf or something." Tobi scratched at the base of his ears. The noise disturbed him, and with the Pack, he couldn't ignore it. "Because a wolf might be playing dead. That's just the sort of coy thing you'd expect from a wolf."

Lu could feel him pacing, but the Pack couldn't capture the extent of his anxiety. She saw Tobi with her own eyes, from a distance, and Tobi looked right back at her. Their interconnectedness grew stronger as she walked nearer. It was as if Tobi was broadcasting his distress to anyone who could listen. Which, many times before, amounted to no one.

"I can feel how upset you are, Tobi," she said. "When I asked you earlier, you mentioned that there'd be fighting. Any Sent still fighting in Orchidia won't leave things at first blood. So what were you expecting?"

"A scrap or two. Maim and flee like always. Let's just avoid whatever's up ahead. The charmander isn't going to stick around a dead body anyway."

It wasn't until she had the help of the Pack, did Lu even consider asking a question, one lingering since they first met:

"What's your deal with bodies?" It hadn't ever occurred to her how odd it was. To have a fear of corpses, in the times they lived in, was unfounded.

Tobi was stunned into a half-smile by the remark. "N-nothing?" He said, chuckling. "I've seen my fair share of dead Sents. Enough of them, that's all. Maybe whatever's ahead isn't a Sent - is it silly for me to hope that we find some unlucky mutt?"

She cocked her head to side curiously. "Animal or Sent… what's the difference?"

Tobi couldn't help but gape now, nervous smiles forgotten.

"Well, that's a loaded question." He muttered. "Lemme holler for Arceus so we can all figure it out together."

"A body's a body. Even if it's the body of someone you know."

"Okay?" He answered, growing petulant. This definitely wasn't a topic Tobi wanted advice on.

Lu used their connection to figure out the details out as she went along. "I think you're too worried about the soul who occupied the body." Tobi fought the urge to lie. At this point, nothing short of a miracle could throw Lu's trust in the Pack, no matter the silver of his tongue. "Is that right?"

"We're losing time."

"We'll lose more when you start crying over the body."

"Uncalled for! Name a single time, Lu."

Lu could name four separate occasions off the top of her head, yet chose to preserve Tobi's honor by letting the argument stand on its own. He sniffled around the body, and always cried the next night, somewhere Lu wasn't supposed to see. Four was a small estimate, when put against the times he did remember to get out of earshot.

"Stop resisting," Lu said. "We both know this is a problem."

Tobi huffed and leaned against a tree, surrendering himself to the lucario. "You know… fine. If you want the truth, I might… do feel awful whenever we come by some unlucky Sent." He licked his chops. "I owe it to my imagination. When I close my eyes, I can see all of the bodies. Where they would be if someone had helped out, or if we ourselves had gotten to them sooner. Or, y-you know, if they had grown up somewhere nice, like I did." He sighed and pushed his tongue against his fangs.

Lu came forward and wrapped an arm around him. She petted his head, breathing softly into his goldenrod fur. "That last one isn't your fault. And it's the worst idea to have. Really, the worst."

"No. The worst is imagining where Maga would be if I hadn't been so soft. I don't need to close my eyes for him. Just seeing a Punisher or hearing a familiar name messes with my head till it's unbearable. In fact, in fact… you want an example? I had to drink myself into a stupor to survive my stay in Six-Burrow. And, when I was head-over-heels, it was still happening. Like I could smell him through the floorboards, all mangled and bloody, waiting for Atlasans to find him in some cranny on the coast of Sunstarch - at least when I held my breath, otherwise all I could smell was stale ale. So at least I had a reason to breathe often enough to stay alive."

Lu scooped up the fox. She was glad to hear his real reason for his behavior at the inn. She adjusted him so their eyes would meet. "Tobi, you're a rascal! Why didn't you ever tell me this? You could've told me when you returned this morning, it would've saved me the effort of getting mad!"

"It's embarrassing," Tobi admitted.

"Nuh-uh, you just got turned around, is all. Tobi, death isn't the end of a Sent."

"What do you mean?"

"Sure, the body the Sent grew up in is now 'dead', yet their soul, the essence of who they are, is still affecting the world. If you died…" A flash of horror took over the braixen's face, and Lu quickly changed her example. "If Maga really is dead—"

Tobi released a ragged sigh. "Please, I swear I'm listening. Just any old example will do, right?"

This fear wasn't an obstacle that could be handled in some frigid, awful forest. Lu tried to help him where it mattered most, currently. "If… Paws died, I wouldn't go bawling at the sight of his body. Everything he's touched, changed or made – it would go on under his name. Even long after the fact. I could find parts of the world he's been in, and depending on what that entails, it might feel like he was right beside me cracking his same old jokes. Usually jokes about me."

Lu chuckled and wiped a tear from Tobi's eye. It wasn't the first time she had spoken of Paws to the braixen. The warm stories he knew about Paws, those alone, made Tobi cry upon hearing his pretend demise. He cared so much, for anything that had a name. A hundred-fold for a close friend, and it made Lu worry about being another thing he drank to forget about. She couldn't leave him, not until he was ready.

"I was a warrior, Tobi. I've experienced much death, and have often felt at fault for the passing of a friend. On one occasion I, well, I did more than feel guilty. I got into a fight and came away with a friend's blood on my hands. But years later, luck would have it, I found the ending of something they did and… I guess, somehow I know through it that she has forgiven me. No matter how sad you are, you have to be on the lookout for those moments. If you miss their effects on the world, who knows when you'll have another chance to experience them? You'll need to hear the ending to their story. Then you won't see them. Because you'll learn that everything is exactly where it belongs."

The forest grew silent as Lu finished consoling her friend. Tobi grew still for a moment, then sprang into action, spinning out of the lucario's grasp.

"Alright then," he said, determined. "I'll try my hardest, Lu, I'll remember every detail of this Sent. N-no more shirking the burden!" The Pack flared up in response to camaraderie between the two. If they weren't careful, they could end up permanently connected. As Lu pushed against the Pack and advanced towards the scent of blood, she celebrated to herself. Someday, Tobi would be a Sent capable of standing on his own two feet again.

~~~~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~~~~

"Allworthy, wake up!" Nasfereet hissed.

"Foes near the camp?" Allworthy muttered. He rolled to his other side, attempting to escape Nasfereet with as little movement as possible.

The snide creature shoved a teal orb into the herdier's face. "More pressing than that, you idiot. Quit avoiding me!"

The commander sprung up, a fuming heap of frustration. "Damn it, what? Shoving things in my face, well, that's a good way to donate your paws to my breakfast. Hasn't your mother taught you—"

A jeering voice from within the sphere interrupted him. "This is a three-way communication. Mind not wasting the energy in our relay orbs?" Allworthy stared at the relay orb, baffled. Due to the expense of finding a spirit welder, relay orbs included less and less features further down the ranks. It took a groggy moment to figure out the importance of either speaker: they were accepting input from his end, a rare feature, and this Punisher troupe had an orb capable of three-way communication. A relay orb of that complexity costed a small fortune, and Allworthy knew only one company in the area whose commander had the rank to deserve it.

"Whoops, did I just yell at the Bonecrusher?" Allworthy asked cautiously.

"Shuddup a moment puppy, and gud'evening," the Bonecrusher replied in his gravelly, strong voice. Punishers rumored that the Dukes budgeted their best orbs to the rhydon, because his great voice took more energy to convey. "Girrup's team opened palaver 'twixt us after discovering your presence in Workhouse Woods. Whazzit Girrup?"

Workhouse Woods – it took a moment for Allworthy to realize he was standing in it. The name had to be a relic, given back when the place had strategic advantage in the Atlasan-Orchidian war. Murder Woods still had a ring to it, but proposing a new name on a three-way comm was plain stupid. Girrup, he recognized. The scizor played a similar role as Nasfereet, with a much more power. Admittedly, a force led by a two-year-old seemed more appropriate than one led by the weavile, if Allworthy even had the numbers to split up.

"Allworthy the Insubordinate!" Girrup cackled. "Can't teach an old dog new tricks, I see. You're supposed to be marching to Sunstarch, not camping out in the woods. Are you trying to be declared an outlaw? I'd love to scrap with you, if that's the case."

"Actually," Allworthy started. Nasfereet forgot all his manners and tugged the herdier's ear. He fanned a paw near his neck and jumped around eagerly. The troupe, now roused by the commotion, had the sense to laugh at the body language. Yet it was a good point. There's a child capable of spirit welding running around the forest, he imagined himself saying, I bought a giant because no one in my troupe had the wits to stop me, and I'm also chasing Duke Willard's princes based on that-a-way's from the aforementioned giant. Oh, and P.S: found that lethal Sent I'm not allowed to know about! He had very little credit left in the Atlasan army. Even if all of his statements were found to be true, it was a stupid enough explanation to end his career. He could mention one and hope for the best.

"Aw, gee, well," Allworthy said instead. This wasn't a predicament at all, he realized after a moment of panic – Girrup was an easy Sent to distract with the right incentive. "We have it on authority that Lu is in the area. You know the game these past few years: find her, find the prince that Willard still likes. Makes him worth extra. Silly me, getting all greedy for that glory and money…"

"G-gah! Lu? Please repeat."

"Lu."

"R-repeat!"

"Fuckin' Lu!" Allworthy shouted into the orb. He heard the Bonecrusher grunt and move a few steps back.

Girrup moved away from the orb, hollering to his team. Distorted shouts came in from the background. "Moon's coming up, too – looks like fight night to me!"

"Remember your task," the Bonecrusher growled.

"Done and done! There isn't a camp or bivouac left standing, or a meat-sack with a Roaken soul that's breathing. Cherry Blossom is blind to the world - our insubordinate friend will make sure of that. So can I? Please, I gotta know what it's like to make a Wayfarer bleed!"

Allworthy leaned in. "Repeat?" He asked, trying to slip in humbly. Had he heard that correctly? "The Wayfarers of the Storm don't exist outside of stories. Repeat?" The two forces fell silent, hinged on the answer. Allworthy looked up at Nasfereet, who tried on his can't confirm or deny face, noticeably less successful than times before. It all but confirmed it to the herdier. Once, the Wayfarers were described as a force of an entirely new kind. Allworthy remembered hearing about their feats, up until the rumors became so fake the Dukes personally stepped in to dispel them.

The Bonecrusher groaned. "Girrup, ye'd best stop believin' fairy tales. Lu's tough, and tough's it. As for your scrap," the rhydon said, humming over his options, "Tobi comes back alive. A nice young'un. Time's here that he come back to dancin' for the Dukes… if she proves to be much trouble, retreat and contact me. I'll handle her."

"You're the best boss ever!" Girrup cheered. Nasfereet's nose wrinkled up at the thought of such a bloodthirsty Sent, then gave the commander a doubtful glance. Allworthy gave him his best quadruped shrug. "Commander Allworthy, clean out any remaining Roaken that might've fled into the forest. And if you're lying to me about Lu, have your innards nice and prepped on a plate when I find you." Girrup dropped out of the communication.

"Stay safe," the Bonecrusher told Allworthy. "Glory to Atlas."

The once-teal orb had just begun to turn red as the communication ended. If he knew a thing or two about cheap relay orbs, this one had hardly a minute left to its name.

"Glory to Atlas," Allworthy muttered to himself. Ending the palaver freed a great weight from his shoulders. He turned to his sidekick. "Good save. Wouldn't have made it on this amount of sleep."

Nasfereet, for once, bowed his head humbly. "It's my assignment to preserve the troupe. And following that, your reputation. I have to admit," he said, perking up again, "I didn't expect the Bonecrusher to be so levelheaded. Or lenient with his right-hand."

"Oh, is wittle Nasfee envious of Girrup? Girrup gets all the toys, Girrup gets to go where he pleases! Pah. Girrup is what happens when you let right-hands run around. All that power at their disposal, while all the responsibility for it is schlepped onto us commanders."

"Praise be! My soul's been salvaged!" Nasfereet mockingly cried. It earned a few chuckles – which was rare for the right-hand, to hear the troupe laughing with him. And not at him. Allworthy himself laughed and roused his Punishers. They were groggy, but used to how little Atlasans respected sleep. They gathered up and began their trek South, in hunt of surviving members – they didn't have much information, but Allworthy had a good reason to act quick.

The moment they were underway, they assaulted the commander with questions. Heetz staggered over to him, his eyes brighter than a happy kit's.

"So it's true that Wayfarers exist, right? The Bonecrusher was just covering his heiny when he reprimanded Girrup."

"Heiny?!" Girrup asked. He remembered why the Dukes stopped the rumors. The hope alone made the fur on Heetz's back prickle with excitement. "Look, even if they are real, don't get any ideas. If you've got names on the totem, they're gone, Wayfarers or no."

It was the nicest way to let the furret down. "O-okay," he said, a little stunned. "That wasn't the idea I was getting." The other Punishers watched. They could tell by the answer that Allworthy himself wasn't ready to give his thoughts on the slip-up. Nasfereet hung back on purpose, not ready either. The weavile almost looked guilty, the way he sulked in the back of the ranks.

Luckily for them both, a more novel conversation had started.

"So you're really insightful – that's your shtick, right?" The sawsbuck trotted alongside Basil. The zangoose had her usual, expressionless face, and seemed more interested in the letter she was reading. Like in the stories where the village idiot ends up outwitting everyone one day?"

Basil turned to the Punisher. "Fol, is it?" The sawsbuck nodded. "I'm not sure if I want to be compared to the village idiot."

"No, I didn't mean it like that! Just, okay. Uh… can I ask you something existential?" The zangoose nodded, and the troupe started to fold in around the talk. "So, er, about that dead stag in our campsite."

"Uh-huh."

"Should I be offended?" The troupe laughed. Fol swung her antlers at Frig, who had to duck head first into the snow. "Shut up, all of you, I think it's a good question! I'm just thinking that it's weird that a member of my breed can just be killed willy-nilly, because they're considered an animal. What do you think?"

"They can't talk or reason like we can. And you shouldn't feel bad for animals. Worry for the critters we're Punishing."

The word killed the attitude. Fol slowed down, moving back. "I, uh…"

"Punishment's the last thing many Sents do. You – or we, I suppose, gotta fret over it. Worry about making it easy on them 'fore they go to the Hunt."

"…Okay. Sorry for bothering you."

"Glad I could help." Basil returned to reading her letter. Allworthy recognized it as the waiver written by the zangoose's Den Mother, with three requests of exemption. She probably asked for it sometime during Nasfereet's watch.

Allworthy pulled back from the front a half-hour later, nodding to Sans to take the lead. The blitzle agreed, still slightly distracted by the scab Basil had scratched. Even with time, it took a while to get over a mention of their work.

"Scout ahead with Fol," he ordered. "Try to shake it off."

When he got to the giant's side, he wasted no time chastising her. "Help?" He asked in a hushed voice. "Basil, you wouldn't know as a first-timer, but it's not easy to bring up Punishments in a group full of Punishers unless you have to. After the first time, you'll see it ain't worth figuring out. It's a tiring job, and no one has the energy."

"I'm sorry," she said, not moving her eyes away from the waiver. It sounded sincere enough. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Bet it involves that waiver."

"It does. My Den ma put herself up for immunity. I know she did so, instead of putting up Trixie." Basil lowered the letter so Allworthy could see.

Sure enough, Momola put her name instead of Trixie's. "Bitch," he muttered. Basil looked at him. "Pardon my language."

"So I'm right about what it says?"

Allworthy began to grow suspicious. Did she just use him to read the waiver? "What do you need from ol' commander?" He asked anyway.

Basil didn't seem the type to steel herself, but the question took a moment to come out. "Replace her name with Trixie's. Tannor and Trixie are twins, it'd kill them to be split up. It's my right to change it."

"You can't read or write, can you?"

"Momola never taught me."

"It may be your right, but it isn't mine, and immunity is a picky territory. No, as much as I want to show up the rat." When he said no, Allworthy was certain Basil wanted to hurt him, or something. But the zangoose calmed down quickly, a sad look on her face as she folded up the waiver. "I will," he added, "teach you how to change it yourself. It'll be our private deal: if you can learn before we find Bleak, then I'll stand by your choice and make sure it goes through."

This made the giant happy, and more than a bit confused. "Thanks you. Why do you want to do it this way, though? It'll be work for you."

"You ever try to write with your damned mouth? And it's time I start thinking about leaving a legacy. I'll front with you, Basil. If you're successful, it might clear my name up. Over time. There's some parts of my life I don't want remembered. That'll be the trade."

The two of them met eyes and nodded. Basil opened her mouth to speak, but Sans interrupted.

"Fol and I found a kadabra up ahead. Wounds look like Girrup's handiwork."

"We'll continue this talk," he told Basil. Seeing the newbie lectured seemed to satisfy the blitzle. "Anything else you can tell me?"

Fol ran up, determined to not appear fazed by the earlier talk. "There's an impression in the snow. About the size of a box, or a small book. Someone's been there before us, and it wasn't Girrup."

"Any other affects?"

"The kadabra had a contract buried under her back."

Allworthy huffed an amused breath. "Wonder what idiot in Girrup's troupe stabbed her with a contract."

Fol shook her head. "No, she wasn't stabbed. It was just folded up where she fell. Not to make assumptions… but is it possible that the charmander had set out to meet the Roaken?"

"Table that discussion," Nasfereet hissed. Once again, the relay orb was aglow. "Girrup has new orders for us."

That angered the herdier. "What gives you the right?" He said to the orb.

"If you know what's good for you, stick in that damned forest." The scizor breathed in deeply every few words. "This is my troupe's moment, and I don't need the rot of Atlas interfering."

Allworthy almost didn't need to ask. "So you've…"

"I've found them," he squealed. "They haven't even seen us yet. She's beautiful…"

The relay orb powered off.


	7. The First Battle

…I understand that he has issues of his own to deal with, but just by concept alone, it isn't fit to use friendship as an excuse to be insubordinate in front of the more impressionable Sents working under me. If he had a problem with my journal, maybe he should've remembered that the only way he could even criticize me was because I told him about my record-keeping in the first place. His blindness has made him eager to provide whatever sight he can on our mission in Cherry Blossom. In the end, I'm afraid that his new habit of making his every opinion public has gotten to me. If my capture or death makes this journal available to Atlas, then I.E may tell everyone at camp that I was wasting our only shot to liberate Orchidia on writing my diary. I miss the old I.E from Roake. Sometimes I wish I had the courage to bring him somewhere private and take a day off to remind that mightyena of just how important he is to me…

Lu closed the book, then opened it again to a different page, taking a whiff of the soggy paper. "Don't you think it's strange?" She tried to turn the page and ended up tearing it straight out of the journal. The paper couldn't even hit the ground before she scooped it up, wincing as she tried to get it to stick in place. "Who has the time to write this much? I found it hard to hold the thing for very long when Paws was teaching me."

"Thing?" Tobi asked. "That would be a pen, Lu." Seeing the book in her hands caused Tobi some secret distress. Once again, he lunged shortly forward and attempted to pluck it from her. Lu saw the grab coming a mile away and lifted the book well out of his reach. They were well out of the forest, and the sun overhead had also passed, casting the snowed-in valley in red light. After burying the dead kadabra they left through the south end of the woods, only to find themselves caught in the middle of a blizzard. They chose to rest for the night – nothing would move in the storm, and finding anything in the middle of the storm would be a shot in the dark. They huddled together under a tree, waring off the cold, and Lu decided to take a quick look at the book they uncovered. She slowly leafed to an older page.

…Returning to camp after such a disaster wasn't easy. No one will know how to continue from this point. Obviously as leader it's my responsibility to know for sure, yet I can only hope they find some respectable way to remove my leadership. I don't think I can run a tight ship, not after what I went through. Things were bad before this, of course, but that was just rationing, and a little bit of tension whenever a patrol needed to be sent out. But the task has lost the excitement it gave to me during those rough times. Before then, I carried out tasks without quite understanding the consequences of being caught. It was one dream to the next. I got to search for and deliver great news to Wayfarer Lugum—

"Wayfarer Lugum?!" Lu repeated.

"Come on, Lu, give me the book," Tobi pleaded. "This kadabra sounds like an airhead. Diaries are supposed to be fanciful, it looks to me like she got a little overactive. Sort of how you're getting right now."

"Well yeah, this is all very interesting…" the gears in her head started to grind. Trying to talk her out of it only made Lu want to investigate further – once she bit down into a problem, there weren't many ways to get her to stop. "But isn't it funny? There isn't a Wayfarer named Lugum, I would know. And why would Roaken rebels want to send me a message?" She caught the strangeness of what she said before Tobi could interrupt with another scathing remark. "I think it might be me," she concluded, voice hushed as though the thought could get her in trouble.

…Lugum, a prestigious honor, and spent a night out in Orchidia's greatest city with perhaps the fanciest Sent it has to offer. Now I'm stuck hiding in a shed hoping that the fallout of this latest disaster misses my corner of the world, and I would really, dearly like to know whether I.E survived. I can't believe I put both of us through this foolishness. Hellingly has likely repeated his order that he needs Lugum found – I should've known that the bastard would never give her that letter, the way I remember him shoving it in to the deepest parts of his bag. I was so foolish. So foolish… I don't have the willpower to venture out after witnessing what happened to I.E. And I could never send someone less equipped than me to their death. They'll just have to send someone else more capable than I.

"Hellingly!" Lu shouted excitedly.

"Hellin-what?" Tobi asked.

"That's Paws's, name! Paws trying to find me!" Her lashing tail caught the wood a few times before Tobi wrenched it away, becoming distressed by the howling of the storm, the cold, and his inability to seize the journal. But when he actually understood what Lu had claimed, he relented, a defeated braixen. Lu herself only became more and more excited. She leaped up to her toes. The sheets of snow coming in on the winds couldn't faze her. "Oh, this is a lucky book. Lucky, lucky. But I never received a letter," she said, disappointed. "And the Sent back there thinks she did. How could that be – there's only one of me last time I checked."

"Missan doesn't seem the type to follow through. Probably schlepped it onto some post office in Treasurus and went on her date."

"Missan?" She asked the moment he paused.

"That's her name. I spotted it in that book before you took it and decided not to share." Lu's ears flopped guiltily. Tobi stood up and continued. "Anyway, don't you find this all a little wild? A corpse in the woods happens to have written a book mentioning you. A body belonging to a Roaken rebel, no less. Are you involved in any rebellions I should know about? Was Hellingly? Then there's the issue of that name… Lu is short for Lucario, not whatever funky name a Roaken invents. Even if I can't be sure, my money is on this being an outlandish hoax. We ought to ignore it."

She thought about it. "Only one a long time ago, and I wasn't for it. So I guess it's not a normal find. So what? It's not the strangest thing we could find. In fact, the more I listen to it in my head, the more I realize that Lugum doesn't have that 'new name' feeling to me. Maybe Paws has discovered something about where I came from!"

"Here's what it is, Lu. The Roaken rebels studied you and your history, then planted one of their fallen with a journal to trick you into fighting for their cause. You're tough Lu, and plenty of groups out there are willing to try something this dirty."

Lu's exasperated whine was loud enough to carry over the storm. The sun had set, and it was almost impossible for the two to see each other. Tobi relieved the dark by alighting his wand. "Why does it feel like we're having two different conversations?" She asked him. "Please stop doubting the journal, it's very exciting to me. I'm very happy to have the chance – and besides, I think Roake is a very nice place. I don't mind fighting for them. When they can't prove that Paws is with them, I'll leave."

"Gah! Why won't you ever just give up? This is obviously a trick."

"Oh, why don't you show me how – tomorrow morning we find something else to do, besides chasing after this charmander. You wouldn't want to, because it makes no sense to toss away a chance like this."

Tobi shook his head. "Not the same thing.'

Lu stalked forward towards him. The light showed her shooting harsh breaths from her nose. A rare thing had happened: Tobi had managed to visibly frustrate the lucario. "Why not?! That doesn't make sense."

"Just not," he replied, falling back on his tried-and-true defense. If he kept denying it, Lu would eventually let off the pressure. She wouldn't risk harming him, and didn't know how to argue with someone not willing to participate. "Forget about the book," he growled. She growled back, an unconscious reply.

"Tobi, I'm begging you. We don't have to look right now, we can do what you want to. But after all this time, it would be nice if I could choose for once. Please? Just a little investigating?"

The braixen thought about it, then rolled his eyes. "Fine. Just let me read the part with your name. So we're on the same page, no pun intended." Lu was too haughty to smile, but she seemed to lighten up at the words. She handed it to him with utmost care to not rip anything.

He stood up. Then, before Lu could pick out his movements in the dark, he chucked the book into the blizzard.

Their pack bond, already repressed by their argument, became corrupted. Lu stared at him, expressionless, as the bond fizzled and died. Without it, the blizzard felt so much colder.

"You... you threw it away. I can't smell or see it, it'll be buried by tomorrow." She turned away from the light of his torch. "You lied to me."

He had expected Lu to become furious. This reaction only made him unbearably guilty. He leaned in, wondering if he had made her cry – Lu never cried. And even so this time wasn't an exception, Tobi was forced to witness her slowly wilt.

"It will be better this way," he said. "You'll see one day. Kind of like you said earlier – we'll come by a Roaken, and they'll say they never heard of a Hellingly."

"Tobi, I don't want to talk to you right now."

The braixen could understand that. Just as he was lowering himself back into the snow for a restless night, something harder than snow touched his foot. It was too slick to be an unearthed root. "Lu?" He asked, stunned by the feeling.

"Not now," she moaned.

'Lu." His voice had become dangerously quiet.

"Please, I'm trying to remember what I did read— Tobi?"

First the book had left her, and now the thrower had disappeared from sight. Had he run away out of guilt? Lu whipped around. Trying to search without Tobi's light, which had followed wherever he went, was impossible. So she changed methods, scanning every angle for the warm glow of his torch. Still, nothing. Then she became desperate – it was often a mistake to leave the start of a search without a trail. The speed at which he had slipped out, however, made her fearful of their attacker's cleverness. Just as she began to move away from the trees and trek farther into the veiled valley, a voice called out to her.

"Lu, Lu, Lu," it sang. "You're losing valuables left and right, tonight."

"Where are you?" Lu called. She could feel the presence of many Sents, forming as she walked towards the voice. The group had hid itself in the blizzard, an obvious but impressive feat of organization. Immediately, Lu grasped the situation, even before the strange voice spoke again.

It spoke tauntingly to Tobi. "Turn your light back on, you pretty, pretty creature. Let your protector find you." He did so without making as much as a sound, doing his best to remember Lu's advice: if captured, don't say a word. It would give his captors a lot of power to know how scared he was. "I wanted my Fairweather orbs set up a minute ago!" The gravelly voice shouted.

"Girrup," a voice pleaded, "the commander said those were only for emergencies."

"A Wayfarer is emerging towards us, idiot! I refuse to carry out our talk in shouts." The Sents flanking Lu groaned their aright's and set up the orbs. By their power, a small pocket of calm started to form. The blizzard swirled in anger, trying to find a way to pierce the dome. Across from Lu was a scizor, adorned with a Punisher's cape – not quite the green color of a commander's cape, yet adorned enough to separate himself from the rabble. The scizor had a gigantic red claw wrapped around Tobi's neck, ready to cleave him in two. Vines coming from the other claw held the braixen in place.

Lu kept the dome to her back. There had to be at least ten Punishers here. "I won't talk to anyone," she called, "until you move your claw from Tobi's neck."

"Aw! That's endearing. But I think he likes it. Do you buddy?" He clenched harder, shaking the braixen's head up and down. Tobi shut his eyes. Lu kept hers opened and stared him down, her silence making the inside pocket into a storm of its own. "Fine, if it'll make you feel better," he said, removing the claw. "What's your name?"

"You've said it already. It's Lu. And your name?"

"Girrup. I worked directly under the Bonecrusher. For good reason, too; I'm the Sent that has what it takes to slay a Wayfarer." He pointed at her, marking her as his target. "I bet you are wondering how you might get your friend back."

Lu saw no point in refusing him. "Yes," she answered. "Please give him back now. Or else we will have to—

"Fight?!" Girrup shouted, his body becoming electrified with excitement. "Fuck's sake, I'm begging for it! You against me, right here, the winner gets what winner wants, once winner wins by making the loser dead!" His lackeys cheered him on, either thirsty for violence or swayed by the roar. The lucario couldn't hide her surprise. "I can see that you're shocked by my offer. I'm a very simple Sent."

Lu didn't need to think about it. "No, you'll give him back. I don't scrap with strangers."

"What kind of rule is that?!" Girrup cried. "Fight me, you has-been!" Then, in a display of eerie calmness, he put his claw back toward Tobi. "Fight me." Tobi looked down at the claw, then at Lu. She shook her head. "Do I have to give you a spiel about how I'm willing to do it?"

"Don't do that. Just let him go and leave. I'm not in the mood," she admitted. The Punishers surrounding her chuckled at the remark.

"Are you fucking- not in the mood?!" Girrup clamped Tobi's leg at the knee and squeezed. The braixen broke his silence with a terrible scream, bending over onto the vines in an attempt to remove the thing that was breaking his leg. Then, with finality, Girrup broke the braixen's leg with a sickening snap. "You in the mood yet?" He yelled over Tobi's cries. He didn't stop crunching.

"I don't negotiate like this. Let him go." She started to sound desperate. It clued in Girrup that his strategy was a success.

He smiled and went at the broken leg with renewed vigor. "Ho, hum, I'll cut it right in two if you don't fight me."

"I-I don't negotiation like—"

"Lugum!" Tobi shrieked. "Please make it stop!" Girrup relented, amused by the sentiment. Unrestrained by the claw, blood poured from the wound into the snow. The broken Sent slumped, his eyes wide with pain. He didn't notice how Lu stared at him, awestruck.

She put her arms up, assuming her fighting stance. "Fine. I'll fight you." The makeshift arena went into an uproar. Girrup silenced them with a confident step forward. Getting what he wanted made him so gleeful he could hardly get a word out.

"What'd he call you?" Girrup asked, retracting his vines. Two Punishers restrained the prisoner, even though Tobi didn't seem to be a threat to anyone in his sorry state. "Eh, suppose it doesn't matter. On the count of three we close the gap?"

Lu kept her paws in front of her face, spikes facing outward. There wasn't any way Girrup was going to just 'close the gap' on her defense. It was going to be a tricky fight, twist and turns as convoluted as her opponent. She nodded regardless.

"One," he said, barely able to get a word out with his excitement. They sat there in total silence, until Lu realized he wanted her to say the next number.

"Two," she muttered.

"…Three!"

Right on the word, a vine shot out of the scizor's claw. Now more focused than before Tobi's capture, she was able to sidestep the bud hurling at her face. She started to advance, paws held squarely in front of her face. A city scrap, or a scrap between kids, had rules about brutal attacks towards the eyes or head of a Sent. Their physiology varied, and no one was afraid of bleeding, but if a Sent called a part of themselves vital, it was treated as such. But the scizor went after her skull again, pushing it upwards off of the ground, directing the bud once again for her jaw. A single turn of her paw removed the danger and killed the vine. She noted his excellent control and had no doubt he could recover his vine in time to use it twice in a single fight.

Girrup shot out another long cord, putting tension into his next attack by pulling up on it. Lu spotted the change in tactics and adjusted accordingly. When he moved his arm in one direction, she went the opposite. The whipping attack missed by inches. Then two more strikes out in the time it took that one, forcing her to pick up the pace. If she could reach him without incident, she would use the defender's advantage – she had a strategy for attacking him, while Girrup wasted his time flailing at her. Again and again the scizor tried to get in his free blow. He realized what a waste of time it was and advanced, far sooner than Lu expected.

He retracted his vine while charging, a technique she never saw before. By having the vine leave while he approached, the Punisher created a tricky illusion. Neither seemed to be moving at all. At the end of his gambit he leaped into the air and swung his arm in a gigantic arc. Lu could hear the force of it on the still air, but a complete scramble towards the ground sent her out of his reach. In the confusing aftermath of the advance, Lu was forced to abandon her strategies. Girrup had evened the field again.

Instead, she lunged for the bud of the vine, which wasn't yet extracted back into the hole it came from. Using it as a hand-hold, she draped his body across her back and threw him across the battleground. He landed in a crouched position, an arm outstretched. He had read her intent to throw him back for more room to think. The realization came too late, and before she even got to think of a next move, Lu felt the vine crash into her mouth.

A follow-up quickly followed. He clacked a claw together and used the blunt hammer it formed to punch her in the stomach. Then, he wheeled around and got that massive strike to her skull he had hoped for earlier. Lu reeled back. Her vision blurry as she tried to spot his next move. Those dangerous clampers were open, and coming forward in an attempt to wrangle her neck.

But it was Lu's turn to outdo Girrup. He expected the blow to her head to be the end of any actual resistance. The jaunting cheers of the crowd were stifled when Lu managed to grab Girrup's neck, then move upward for a glancing blow as they traded places. The resulting vine that came out as she tried to make distance between them missed – judging by the repeated trick, the scizor had relented. Lu rolled backwards and kicked up at it as it flew over her head, destroying the cords of nerves that animated it.

Somehow, their dance had returned to the start. Rivulets of blood came dripping from her head, and she could taste it in her mouth. This wasn't any ordinary subordinate. His lackeys cheered him on, shouting his name.

Girrup cut off the dead vine, a confused look on his face. "You… you're nothing special. I thought you were going to be amazing, and our battle something for the minstrels! I could beat you to death in my sleep – you're sluggish, you're predictable. Is that endurance of yours the sole reason they let you on board?"

"Of course not," Lu said, too excited to check herself. "The Wayfarers of the Storm aren't technically strong. We were picked on one talent: the ability to bring down those stronger than us."

"What kind of stupid motto is that?" Girrup laughed at the Wayfarer. "You'd be a walking paradox." Still hungry for a real fight, he got back into his stance. "Whatever. Go ahead and bring me down, Lugum."

"I'll try." The lucario extended her arms, then folded them back towards herself, following an intricated pattern that only she could see. Girrup watched her with curiosity. Then, guessing at her plan, started to back up to his corner of the arena. After completing the pattern, Lu followed it in reverse. She glanced at the braixen, making sure he was ready.

"A martial art, and one I know!" he exclaimed, becoming almost conversational. "You're going to hit me from a distance. That's not even a real art, it's a training exercise!" She completed the second turn and folded in again. Tobi, still racked by pain, still had the sense to inch away from his captors. He knew what was coming, and felt gratified to be able to watch. "So is this it? You're going to sock me one? Ha, go ahead!' He opened himself wide for the attack.

Both her paws shot out, but not at Girrup. They seemed to point off at inscrutable targets. Nothing happened. No one seemed to notice in the midst of lights that Tobi's had gone out.

Girrup groaned, and his lackeys followed with a chorus of booing. "Okay, this is a waste of my time. You're not a legend. You're an endangered species! To think, I used to look up to you…" then he caught on to the smell of stolthet. Girrup had experienced it before. But here, in a situation he thought he controlled, the sudden confidence sent him into a panic. "B-bye!" He shouted, shooting a vine. He planned to crush her throat, a wound that no Sent could recover from on their own – he'd likely leave her in the snow to suffocate.

But that blow never struck. It came within feet of her, its cords slithering through the icy air. Then a pillar of storming ice broke down from the top of the arena, slamming the vine into the ground. Girrup uttered a cry of pain. A kick to his vines hurt; the frigidness of the storm slicing it apart was a whole new kind of agony. It wouldn't retract. It laid dead in the snow as his fellow Punishers started to cry out in displeasure.

Lu lowered her paws into a lower stance, this time posed to surround her body – one paw held outward, the other one pacing the small of her back, acting as a ward. As Girrup recognized the training art, he also recognized the stance: a perfect caster's pose.

"What did you do?" He shouted. His wings shook, far out of his control. The banter Girrup kept up before gurgled and died in the face of a threat he didn't know. "How are you controlling the ice?" Lu waved her front arm, summoning another column of the storm. It stalked up on the scizor. It wasn't going nearly fast enough to be an attack, not yet, but Girrup received the message. "N-no, not even the Bonecrusher has this sort of control, and you're out of your element. This is a ruse – you're a cheater!"

"I'm no cheater," Lu said. "I've taken control of your fairweather orbs. Make a move towards them and it'll hurt."

"Y-you're a welder?"

"No. All I know is how to use what I'm given. You're pretty strong, but I know for a fact I'm cleverer than you. I don't want to have to kill you to get Tobi back. Please let him go."

"You're pathetic-" Lu leaped forward and sent a palm into his face. The scizor tried to rebound, but Lu put the winds to her back and caught him, pinning him to the ground. She stomped on his chest till his body left an impression in the snow. It was enough to ensure he couldn't fight back, and enough to let him know the fight was over.

"Did you really look up to me? That scares me. Also, I won't be asking you again to give up Tobi."

Girrup started to laugh, a dark, spirited chortle. "Not in the mood," he wheezed. "K-kill the braixen!" He ordered.

The Punishers, too scared to move after Lu's demonstration, started to panic. Lu looked around – she prayed that the braixen found somewhere safe. Her control over the fairweather orbs faltered, and so did the control she had over her body. The shakiness of her foot on his chest gave the damned insect confidence in his plan. When the Pack bond withered, however, it had taken much of her strength with it, and the effects were just beginning to take root. The lucario started to grasp the danger they were in.

"She'll kill you!" The other Punishers joined in the protest.

"I can't be another troop to fail at this little game," he spat. "If I can't end it right, I might as well end it." The scizor repeated that dreadful laugh. "Kill Tobi. And she's weak, now. Kill her too." They clambered around, afraid to do either action – the former due to the Bonecrusher's wrath, and the latter due to Lu's. "Do it now!" The commander shrieked with the last of his strength, and the Punishers started to close in.

She grasp on the fairweather orbs weakened. It became harder to see – looking threatening to the approaching Punishers was out of the question. Instead, she sat down in the snow, trying to breathe enough air to get back up again.

"Run, Tobi!" She called, too tired to recall his broken leg. With her last bit of consciousness, she shut off the fairweather orbs and scrambled into the snow, hoping to hide in the blizzard.


	8. Maga's Dance, part two

Four years ago

Just a year before, the locals of the towns he visited had nothing but hate for his tassels. They'd tear and rip them apart, mocking him on the hearsay which happened to also be family tradition. Now? After receiving the sponsorship of Tobi's father, he couldn't make his way from one end of a town to another without Sents asking to touch them. He allowed yet another child to prod him with his questions. And, after seeing how Maga dominated the fire in his performance, the children tested their own mettle against his tassels. He had approached their mother to ask a question, but it was quickly forgotten.

A zigzagoon chomped down on the end of a tassel. He growled, jumping back and forth like he was attempting to teethe on tree bark. Maga smiled warmly, assuring the shocked mother that it was fine. He hoped that it wasn't too obvious that he had spent so much time daydreaming about this attention. The sun had yet to reach its full height, but already promised a glimmering day that would bring out the color in the crops of Chapelwatch. He could see them now, down the straight road, into the common field in the lowest part of the valley. "Wow!" The pup was oblivious to everything, so focused was he on his prey. "It won't break off!"

"Lemme help," the pup's sister insisted. She twisted on to her back and bit near the top of his tassel. Her little legs went wild, as if a little more effort was all they needed.

Maga lifted his arm up. The two zigzagoon froze, dangling off his arm like two fish caught on the same hook. Their tiny choppers were a healthy white. Yet they still slid down, until the two siblings ended as a pile on the ground.

The brother shrugged his sister off. Her snout made a little plop when it hit the dirt trail. "Aw," he said, "you made him move."

"Let's try again!" The sister squealed.

"No, that's enough you two." The mother, a stout bibarel, plucked her children away by their bushy tails. They scrabbled at the mienshao. "Pardon me, pardon. They nary slept at all – kept talkin' about you and your friend."

"Sorry," Maga said habitually. He couldn't mimic the splendid ring of Tobi's mewling. Time in the mines had left his throat gravelly. It was also loud and insistent, and Maga could tell it gave the bibarel pause. But she seemed to think that it fit him in the end, because she smiled back.

She laughed. "Don't be sorry, dear! Our mayor is a right genius bringing you to our little town. It gets so still around here, it begins to feel like we're talking to ourselves. Makes us wonder why our ancestors came out from the trees at all. I heard the performance would involve fire, but when that friend of yours brought his flames upon you? Why, I thought I was witnessing the end of some sordid performers' tryst – I had to stifle a cry of horror! It excited me more than I've been in months! It was beautiful."

Maga was hung up on her doting words. "You thought it a tryst?" He repeated back to her, amused.

The instant she heard it again, she realized her mistake. Her pups looked up, their interest peaked by her hemming and hawing. "Oh, oh! I didn't mean to imply that – only before word spread around town about who you are – er, what – what gender…" Maga tried to give her another reassuring grin. It wasn't the first time their dance led a Sent to that conclusion. They left the tale open, wordless, so the meaning laid within the spirit of the town. Sometimes, that spirit made up some creative stories. "What an offensive comment for me to make." Please forgive me." Please forgive me. Something in him reveled at hearing those three words said to him. How many years his father waited to hear those words from him!

"Don't – don't lose your wits about it," Maga pleaded. "It happens." He cautiously patted the bibarel's lowered head head. A gaggle of townsfolk approached, heir curiosities stirred by the spectacle of a fellow citizen losing herself over a celebrity. When she seemed calm enough, Maga remembered his question. "Say, a waitress at the inn said that the totem for this town is at the end of these fields up ahead, followed by a quick walk to the East. Is that right?"

The bibarel snapped up, her histrionics crushed into a flat stare. One moment it was good-natured panic, the next, a chill overtook Chapelwatch. Even the brother and sister zigzagoon sensed it – they whined softly. "Why do you want to know?" She asked suspiciously, ears perked up and eyes locked on his bag.

"I'm out to eat a meal with my sister, and to give her gifts."

Then the mood turned again. The sudden shifts made Maga feel nauseous. So did bringing up his Punished sister to a stranger. The mother leaned down and nipped at her whimpering kids ears. They understood without a word spoken between them, running off to find a new place to play. "Your… pardon me, dear. We oft try to forget the travelers who accept this spot as their resting place. Even if the Punisher's got their laws that allow them to choose, we're not responsible for doing anything else but etching their name in the totem. I can't tell you for sure if she chose this place or not."

"I've used records in Treasurus, along with my family's word. This is also a beautiful place," Maga told her.

"Thank you."

"I'm confident that she would choose this place. She was brave enough to seek what she loved, even in the face of death."

It would be heinous to infringe on a Sent so determined to visit the Punished. The townsfolk parted way for the mienshao. The mother, whom he had expunged so much of himself to, seemed unsure of what to make of her experience. In the end, when she gave him instructions on reaching the thicket with their totem, she seemed to remember that even the famous offer parts of their lives to the Punishments, in preparation for the price of living they'd one day pay like everyone else. No matter how far she scrambled, she'd one day be chosen for Punishment, her children orphaned, and her name etched into the totem. In fact, on such a clear day, she was able to point right to it: a grey speck after the sea of wheat, and before a tangled forest. Maga wished that he could do something for her, but there was naught to do besides letting the revelation pass.

As directed by the bibarel, Maga was soon able to make out the many parts of the totem. He passed through a path flanked on both sides by high-reaching wheat stalks. When he emerged on the other side he couldn't help taking a moment to recover from his plunge into the tight space. He had brought all the necessary items one should have on a picnic for one, tied up nicely in his bag. There was so much space to set down after paying respect to his sister. This relieved him almost as much as his escape from the rows of wheat.

His paws pushed down matted grass on the often-traveled path to the totem. Within its figure stood the hierarchy of everything: the marble head of Arceus, creator of all, looked away from his the Punishment he made. The sculptors meant for these totems to represent Arceus appreciating the souls who perished in the name of life, but Mag always thought it symbolized his refusal to explain the purpose of the Punishments. Below, the sculptors replaced Arceus's great heaving chest with a mural. It gave the history that led to the way things were today: the Disasters, the advent of the Greatbeasts, the rise of Atlas and the beginning of Pokéterra's era of appeasement. The eight bringers of creation, who championed the various nations of Pokéterra, were made to cry and smile at the right points of the story. If one was at the end of a storyline a hundred years coming, did that make them a hundred years old? Maga bet that it was harder to argue such things outside the safety of a warm house, or minutes before Punishment.

Then there was the bottom, the only part Maga cared about then. On the smoothed bottom of the totem were the names of all the Sents who had been Punished in Chapelwatch – or chose to be, regardless of their home. Seeing as how one totem sat alone in the field, Maga reasoned that Chapelwatch couldn't be more than twenty years old; Treasurus, the prize of Orchidia, had dozens of totems looming outside its gates. And the locals still laid gifts out on the ground in front of the totem. It made him glad to know that no ruffians could steal his gifts after he left – his younger sister's resting place was so merciful, Maga started to suspect she had requested help. She asked the Punishers where she could go without inconveniencing her family. The money she saved by not travelling home went to making life easier for everyone. Maga himself had seen money soon after joining Sarsaparilla.

He stopped his approach once he smelt the unforgettable stench of a Punishment. It was like stolthet, but more oily and sicker. Colder. Like the forest itself was secreting slime like a cockroach preparing to climb up the wall and into the darkest corner of the room. Maga couldn't help but fall on all fours for a hasty retreat, growls coming from the bottom of his throat. If he got too close, the Punishment would suck him in. He'd solve its mystery. Then die.

After such an awful experience, he elected to make his time at the totem itself as short as possible. The smell had recessed into an unpleasant taste in his mouth, making it easier to get close without triggering his instincts. He scanned the base of the totem for his sister's name. He spotted it, then fell back. Limsa, his younger sister, was etched into the bottom right.

"Sister," he called out. Arceus's head watched him, unmoving. "How's the Unending Hunt? I hope they have made room for such a delicate dancer."

Silence. Emptiness. Had he expected her to respond with a breeze?

"I'm well myself. More than well. Can I show you? You'll understand if you see." He removed two gifts. One from the family and one from her mate. The mate, who despaired at the death of Limsa, mounted the grief and successfully courted a second sister, Rasa. He was family by this point, so Maga's father permitted him a small letter to Limsa. It was heavily ornamented, so much so Maga couldn't help but wonder what Rasa thought of it. The family's gift was simple: an easel for the water paints Limsa used as a child. As a mienfoo, Limsa used to paint her sibling's faces and tassels (the much bigger prize). He remembered when he woke up in the middle once. Bath-time wasn't until the afternoon, so Maga sat angrily in their bedroom, half his face painted green. What a little terror she became when the water paints were left out!

That particular memory struck a hard blow. Maga broke his eyes away from the totem. "Do you understand, sister? They have entrusted these gifts to me. I've become a great dancer, and they rescinded my banishment. I wanted to come and tell you: when I come to the Unending Hunt, you'll be allowed to talk to me. If there are pauses… you can even paint my face." He chuckled and somehow managed to lower his head even farther. He didn't want to cry, not when he should be happy about the news. It was pointless to try, though. Two tears formed in the corner of his eyes, then streaked through his fur so fast he felt them sliding. "I wish you were here to do it now. I missed you. I went out on the road and missed you growing up." He placed the gifts down next to some flowers meant for another Punished Sent.

"Hello?" A voice called out. It was hushed and concerned.

The mienshao whirled around, ready to snap at whatever Sent interrupted his time alone. Instead he found Tobi, ears pinned to the back of his head and maw ajar with surprise. Even startled, the braixen couldn't help but look as if he spent an hour brushing his fur. With his mind where it was, Maga started to resent how put-together he was. "H-hey there," the braixen said. "I heard you get up. I guessed that this is why. M-mind if I join you?"

"You want to join me?" Maga asked, incredulous. "Damn it, Tobi, you ought to know how rude this is! I'm speaking to my sister, alone!"

The braixen flinched. "I knew that this would make you sad. I wanted to save you from that."

"Tobi. No offense, but I don't think you know anything about this. You don't even have siblings. What kind of sage advice can you give me? Leave me the fuck!" At the end, his voice pitched into a yell. He realized he was still crying and rubbed a few tears out of his eyes, into the clean fur covering his cheek.

"I don't know anything! I'm super terrified of dying," Tobi admitted, refusing to raise his voice. "But I came down here… so we could be scared together, you know?" He reached up and started to run the length of one of his long ears through his paws. "After a year of travel with me, you still take this stuff on alone. Do you think I don't notice when you're hurt? You can be so bad at hiding your feelings, you know that? So yell at me all you want; I'm staying whether or not I get to talk or eat with you."

"Like hell you will. Go!"

"Nope."

"I wonder what your father'd think of you interrupting something like this."

"That I broke some silly vigil so I could help my best friend? Golly, I'm sure he'll tear me to shreds."

"I'll tear you to shreds. I swear. I really might do it if you stay."

"Aren't you the toughest in the land?"

Maga gave up his anger. It was disappointing to rein himself in. There was relief in being furious, but he knew that Tobi would make a very willing victim. He couldn't win, anyway. Not against the patented be snarky about everything approach. "You're not leaving, are you?" The mienshao asked.

A bright smile shone on the braixen's face. It was as if the sun chose that moment to move out of the dawn. The sudden influx of light brightened the scene. "That's better. Now let's get away from this rotten totem and eat."

Maga stalked away from the gifts he left at the totem. He felt the ichor of the Punishment trickle down his spine, till it all spilled out at once. The pressure lifted off of him made it easier to handle the grief he felt as he set up a small blanket and set out his meal. Tobi watched him. He wore a grin on his face that Tobi knew well: his dancing partner put it on whenever he couldn't contain his excitement. He was so happy to have convinced Maga, he rehearsed the smile he'd wear beforehand. It stupefied Maga that one could become so jovial for the act of mourning and fearing death.

"Is that all the food?" He asked, pointing at the dishes. Maga nodded. They were amenities from their performance the other night, a few pastries and some spiced flatbread – having hatched his plan to visit his sister by then, he had pocketed a few. Tobi seemed to eat twice his weight, so a meal for one was about to become a snack. Maybe not even a snack, if Tobi skipped breakfast in his frenzy to find Maga. "Gah!" He cried. "Are these the rations of a mine worker?!"

"Oh, yes. All the hard laborers suffered only the smallest portions of glazed blueberry croissants." Then, more to himself: "I didn't even know they were croissants till yesterday." He held the baked good in his paws. They were far from the Punishment, yet still close enough to prevent Maga from salivating at the fine piece of food.

This made the braixen anxious. "Uh, Maga. That's a muffin."

The mienshao took the crescent pastry, inspections beginning anew. "No way. Shut up…"

They caught each other's eyes and sat in silence. Then, Tobi's grin exploded into full-on laughter. Maga swore that its purity pushed back the corrupt tendrils of the Punishment. His eyes began to dry up – the worst part had passed, he told himself.

The two ate, watching all the valley not overtaken by the totem or its foul forest. The fields of wheat swayed back and forth. They appeared taller and short, but Maga couldn't ever catch the moment it happened. They searched the rolls of hills, searching for unmarked trails in the fields of green grass. They saw movement farther on, yet their slice of the valley seemed to have slowed dowd. Even the clouds started to move slower when passing over their heads, moving faster once they passed the two Sents and over Chapelwatch. Once, they spotted a Docile come bursting out of the wheat fields. Tobi cried out and pointed at the quilava, startling it. It began to dart to and fro, excited at its being caught. They waved at the Docile for a good ten minutes. Every wave seemed to prompt the speechless quilava to do sillier and sillier tricks in an effort to impress them. It even began to approach them, but stopped halfway. When it rolled on its back, legs shot straight into the air, the two Sents understood the question. The quilava slinked away once they nodded back, leaving Maga to grieve. The mienshao was sure that the quilava would be making the leap from Docile to Sent soon. It would acquire the ability of speech – and tell this story to a hundred different Sents, as newly changed Dociles were wont to do.

Maga tried to strike up some conversation.

"I talked to a waitress at the inn," Maga told him. "Apparently, Chapelwatch used to be so named for the pristine church they built using marble quarries to the East. It was dedicated to Arceus. In fact, this town rose out of a camp of Orchidians who pledged to defend it from harm. It was in the heart of that forest over there, in a magnificent glade. The Orchidians who lived in Chapelwatch started to hate it. Every passing day things became worse, they started to be Punished in Arceus's name. The church belonged more to the Atlasans than them, in the end. So they attempted to destroy it. It was a blood feud… so many deaths that a Punishment formed around the chapel in order to take in those forgotten souls. They say that Punishments keep the likeness of the place they consume. They're mazes of eventuality that throw dangers at you until you finally die in its grasp. I hope my sister went quickly. I also hope she got to see that beautiful chapel."

"Huh." Tobi curled up. He didn't want to talk about Punishments.

An hour passed. On the next hour, Maga tried again, this time about his sister's exploits. Tobi enjoyed this far more.

"…It was sort of like, uh, family politics." He chuckled and stretched out on the blanket. "We'd leave out the paints next to the brother or sister we wanted painted. Limsa never failed to discover her target. She'd have made a good living as a hired killer! It was a good way to solve our issues. In fact, I remember a few times where someone left it by my father. He became so irate! Till he found it was mother calling the hits – she wanted another child, but he refused. He refused again, but things cooled off." Maga laughed. "Look at all the fun you've had with our youngest, he said. Wait till you wear this one out, at least!"

Tobi smiled. "Your family seems nice. Sparing a few things…"

"Right. Water colors are thin. They can't paint over everything. I still remember having to leave Limsa. She was the last member I said goodbye to, because I knew it would be hardest. I had practice by the end… I told her I'd be accepted back into the family by the time she'd give her first dance. But I never saw a single one. I was so angry and spiteful, I believed it. She believed it, too. All my memories of her are frozen, now, since I never made good on my promise, I never saw her dance. I can't get over the guilt." He rolled onto his stomach, his head tucked in shame.

"Dance for me," Tobi said. "Dance the way Limsa would. If you had seen her."

Maga untucked his head and stared at him. "Are you crazy?"

"No. I think it will help."

The mienshao rose back to his feet. The dew on the grass chilled the pads on his feet. "I'm doing this to prevent another argument with you."

Tobi chuckled. "Glad to see you're learning! Now then… how would she dance?"

"Well… I talked to death about her painting hijinks. But that's just how I remember her innocence. She didn't know how to harm anyone."

"Maybe you shouldn't snap your tassels like you do in our dance."

"Yes." He started to move his arms, as he did when working up to wilder patterns. A mesmerizing circle formed on either side of him, his tassels spinning in uniform motion.

"Swathe your tassels about yourself. Can you run them across your body? I bet she could, if she didn't know how to hurt."

"You're right." He tried to move his right arm in a way to streak across his chest. He grunted as it smacked against him. "Damn it."

The braixen perked up, invested. "It's okay. If you have to try it a hundred times to understand it, then one out of a hundred tries will be your first – and worst."

This earned an amused huff from the toiling mienshao. "Sarsaparilla's words?" Tobi nodded. He tried again. This time, there was no pain when it collided. It slid away, harmless and calm. Maga almost stopped due to his surprise. "That's it," he said. After doing it once, a pattern came to him. The angle of his spinning tassels changed, brushing against him without pause.

"Now spin!"

"Spin?'

"Limsa sounds like my kinda Sent. And if I were her, I'd want to spin!"

Maga obliged, trying a spin. The foreign move sent him off balance. He recovered, then spun again. To his benefit, he had practiced spinning plenty of times before. Or else the motion he had now would've sent him tumbling down.

Tobi jumped up to his feet. "Is this it?"

"Close!" He yelled. It was as if he existed in a blurrier, crazier world. The spontaneity, the contrasting delicateness – it was but steps away from being his sister's dance.

"Jump!" Tobi shouted back. "Jump everywhere. Don't worry about where you land!"

Tarota would shake her head at his performance. The small pattern he had devolved into a bunch of leaps, flailing and spins. He lost his mind to it. The two became faster and faster, wilder and wilder, until Maga couldn't take it. He slammed down on the ground after his highest jump. He roared at totem, as if he had won a bid for his own memory. Maga hadn't brought his own gift, his family still not ready to permit him to. Somehow, though, he felt like he had given the one thing that felt right. Finally, Maga felt a moment of Limsa on the fresh air.

A cry came from somewhere off to their side. Tobi and Maga were freed from their spell. They let out a cry of their own, looking for the spy. The Docile from earlier sprinted off into the distance – it had snuck up on their picnic while they were distracted with the dance. The quilava turned around and barked at them, more curious than scared by the time he became a speck in the distance. It stood up on its hinds legs and shouted. Then it dashed behind a hill.

"It—that quilava thought you were posturing!" Tobi could hardly breathe. He laughed so much he cried. They fell about themselves. Then, suddenly, the two found themselves looking right at each other.

"You're a liar," Maga accused. "You did far more than you promised. Thank you."

"You're welcome," the braixen whispered.

The exchange did nothing to break their stares. Maga knew it was strange, but he swore that there was something hidden in Tobi's eyes. He wanted to discover what made Tobi the turning point of his life. Maga wondered if Tobi was on his own hunt, and if his own had something buried in them. It was as if they were helping read the words on a sign glued to each of their backs.

"Maga." Tobi sounded insistent.

"Yeah?" He asked.

Then it was over. Tobi broke from the exchange in a panic after spotting something from the corner of his eye. "Ah! Is that my dad?" Sure enough, the delphox was making his way to their picnic. The irrational side of Maga thought that he was angry, but he saw how much pep Sarsaparilla put into his step. Dignified or no, he had the foxish habit of becoming light on his feet in times of elation. There was another beside him – a zoroark that had to be very important, so important that Tobi's father gave him the right of way. "Hey, I remember that zoroark from the crowd last night!"

"Is he a big deal?" Maga asked.

"Guess we're going to find out."

The zoroak picked up to a trot in order to cover the last gap. He stopped, heeling up to his full height, which was around Maga's. He was older though, a grizzly visage covered over with a pleasant smile. "Hello, you two! How goes it?"

"G-good," Tobi blurted out. He was shocked that they had bypassed proper introductions. Maga gave a similar reply a second after.

Sarsapilla reached them. "I beg your forgiveness Maga for this intrusion. I forgive my son's intrusion as well." His words sounded more genial than harsh. "It's my opinion to not make news like this wait. Once you hear, I'm sure you will forgive us." The delphox nodded to his companion. "But please, wait until Duke Willard is done speaking before you react."

Tobi let out a little yelp. The words pulled him straight into a deep bow. Words had been spoken in Sarsaprilla's home about Duke Willard. In the tangle that was Atlasan politics, full of strife and competition, he had been the winner over Orchidia's cropping for over a decade. To rule for so long without as much as a hitch in all of his responsibilities… Maga gave him a sincere bow.

"Ah, rise up! I would like to see your eyes again. I noticed from afar the investigations you were undertaking in this… realm of change." Opposite to before, now Maga had the harder time abiding by the Duke's will. That secret between them; if Willard provided an answer to what it was, wouldn't it ruin those moments of searching? He did his best to look straight ahead, respectful and quiet. "Fantastic. I see what I assumed in your performance the other night. You've begun to unravel the mysteries of conflict between our two great nations, ninety years in the making, and saw a note of understanding that must be unearthed from the rest of the deposit. Your presence in front of this noteworthy Punishment, the Marble Chapel, has catalyzed your knowledge through its history. Wonderful!"

"Thank you," Tobi said. He wasn't at fault: it felt as if they were receiving the highest commendations they could receive. "How does our understanding impress you?"

"As the foremost Duke of Orchidia, it is often my role to come at a head with the understandably frustrated Sents who live here. To assuage this pain we both feel at this endless conflict, I have searched far and wide for pieces of Orchidian literature that bridges the gap between our worlds. I've waited so long for the day I'd find the two of you. Atlas's denizen legendary, Entei, represents our undying urge to start anew, to make a world incapable of housing evil. We wish to burn the fields so they can bring brighter fruit. And Orchidia has suicune, who has inspired her nation to put out an unending tide of expression. They erode the narrow chambers of darkness and makes certain that the meaning of life remains clear."

The zoroark was getting so excited, it began to be contagious. It was becoming obvious why Sarsaparilla viewed him as a dear friend: they shared a like mind in their long-winded pursuit for progress. Maga guessed at what would be coming next. "Duke Willard, do you think we act as avatars for the Legendaries of our nations?"

Willard went wild with enthusiasm. "Yes, yes! You have adopted an astute son into your family, commander Sarsaparilla." Tobi turned his head a few inched to the right. Maga caught a glimpse of the braixen pouting until Sarsaparilla shot him his famous don't you dare glare. The delphox could pull those out faster than any Sent alive. Was Tobi jealous that he answered? No, that couldn't be it. The mienshao tried to not puzzle over it. "You two combine the instant and the gradual, the fire that burns all and the water that breaks away. Together, you create balance. Peace, even. For this reason, I have to make my offer to adopt you both, so you may return to Treasurus and perform for thousands of Sents who need your message." The dancers looked at one another, shocked into silence. "In return for your help," he said, inflections of his voice picking up in ante. "I have arranged total immunity for you both."

"Immunity, Tobi," Sarsaparilla repeated, drinking in the words like fine wine. "Immunity, Maga." The mienshao looked behind him, to the easel propped up against the totem. "My friend is too kind to give me this chance. But I'll leave the decision to you."

"Before you decide," Duke Willard added, "there are a several other rules to our arrangement. First, you must know the politics of our bound nations, along with the mannerisms of both. Since you propose a union through dance, it's only sensible you know the cultures you represent. Second, you will see me as your adoptive parent. I'm not your sponsor nor the tenant of your new home. I wish to be a second father to you, so you will have sage advice in your younger years. Third? You will need to be trained in combat. In the case that you are caught unawares by posturers against my rule, or Atlas, or the hundred other reasons, you will be wanting for such instruction. Now that you know everything, you may talk it over. Or we could leave, then you may send for us when you've decided."

The last one killed Tobi's excitement more than anything. He kept it hidden, yet it was too obvious to Maga, whose own mind swirled with the possibilities. They fell in, measuring their voices so only they could hear themselves speak.

"I don't like it," Tobi whispered. "It was good until the last part. The last part makes me suspicious."

"What? It makes too much sense for us to have the ability to defend ourselves."

"It's fishy. I'm scared. Something in the back of my head tells me we're going to—

"Tobi, it's fine. I promise I won't let anything happen to you. Even if there are risks, this is our one chance." The one chance to avoid Punishment. "It'll be us together. Nothing can get in our way."

The braixen, on the verge of crying, sucked in a deep breath and smiled instead. "I trust you."

Maga turned from their group and gave their answer:

"We're all for it," he said, a hopeful smile on his face.

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

Maga barked with weak laughter. He adjusted his position, slumped against a high mound of snow. When he tried to stand up, his legs gave up before the struggle had begun. The charmander swathed in his tassels and tucked under his arm twitched in response to Maga falling back to the ground.

"What're you do-oo-ing?" The mienshao sang. "Arceus, what are you do-oo-oo-ing?" The waviness of his own voice sent him into a fit of laughter. "What a load of shit, Arceus! Ha, ha, ha!"

Bleak looked out from under Maga's arm. There wasn't much life left to either of them. They had advanced far, even with the storm, but a time came where the reviver seed no longer worked and they couldn't keep the other one moving on words or pushes alone. Maga found cover against the blizzard in his last few moments upright, to buy them more time. More time to do nothing but wait.

"Are you going crazy?" Bleak asked. "Like, crazy, crazy?"

"Don't worry, snot. I'm immune."

"Immune to what? You… keep saying that you're immune. But it doesn't feel like it."

"Punishment! I can't be Punished. Duke Willard promised me that I could never be Punished. Not have my name drawn, not have my name considered, not have it deemed my method of execution should I commit a crime. Immune, kid, the full deal. I can't be Punished, basically. Then why am I being punished?" The wind howled. He turned his attention to it. "Listen to me. We're in a giant Punishment. That's it! All Pokéterra is a torture chamber meant to reap our souls. They pretend that as long as your name isn't drawn, you're alive. No. They scare you until you are all for their fight to survive. Yes. They dangle death in front of your face so you make bad choices. After the bad choices, nothing matters. Head under or head over the sea, you're choking on the bile you're spewing because they've told you it's better than saltwater in the lungs – gah!" Maga fell farther onto his back, writing in agony. "It hurts! Why did you make that reviver seed so weak?"

Bleak shook his head. "You… stopped your rant to criticize me. Really. I did the best I could…"

"Sorry," Maga replied. He became fixated on the word, coughing it out between the sobs. "Sorry. Sorry. I wish I could do something. Please forgive me. Please… forgive me." The mienshao's eyes went wide, his mouth hung open with a half-born word.

"You could've not kidnapped me. You could've not put my tail in the water to prove a point." Bleak expected a scathing reply, or the start of another crazy rant. Instead, he was treated to the unbearable noise of the wind. "H-hello?" Deadly curious, he roused the strength to climb up his captor's chest. He saw his dead eyes, his mouth ajar. He tipped his head towards Maga's jaw – noticing now that the roof of his mouth was burned – and listened. There were faint breaths. It would seem that Giratina had grown tired of his rants, and had placed him in this state so he may await his arrival to the Unending Hunt in peace. Seeing this obstinate Sent fall, meant something to Bleak: that he would also be making his way in the next hour. His tail already struggled to stay lit, his scarves soaked with cold as if they had lost their warmth alongside their owner's.

Bleak laid himself against the mienshao's chest, waiting upon the creature's every breath, not expecting anything at all.


	9. Twin Strengths, part one

"You! Or you! Any of you! Get me something to put over myself!"

Even after wrenching a jacket out from the bottom of their supply bag, the cold night had started to seep into Nasfereet's bones. His sharpened teeth began to knock against each other in violent shivers. But he wasn't the only one worse for wear: Allworthy, who had just gave the finishing touches to a makeshift tomb, seemed to be just as upset at the turn of events. Except the cape draped over Allworthy's back did nothing for him – the herdier had become so angry, Nasfereet thought that his simmering might leave melted paw-prints in the snow.

The commander followed protocol to the letter. He kept a large group about him, and sent out two pairs made from his most experienced trackers to pick up the trail of any Roaken rebels. Together, the two groups could comb the area in time for a few hours of sleep. The blizzard might've impaired the trackers' ability to do an exhaustive search, but it had little effect on the time it would take to inspect each area.

While they engaged in a wide search, Girrup mentioned – the one the scizor and his lackeys so proudly razed. Half a dozen bodies rested in the center of the camp. A weakened fairweather orb keeping their bodies thawed. Nasfereet found little satisfaction in not needing to use their own limited supply.

It was a one-sided battle; one caped Sent outside the cornered six, a Punisher, had been garroted by a cord of tent wire, and was the only Punisher to fall. The wire smelt of psychic energy, a paradoxically floral yet brass aroma. Girrup himself had ended four of the six Sents with signature bashes to the skull. It was a jeering way to kill: striking at the minds Roaken loved so much. Allworthy recognized the message and hated it.

Since none of his troop had Roaken blood, there wasn't any point checking for familiar bodies, meaning that they went straight into hiding the corpses in an attempt to get a couple hours of rest. He still tried to have Frig organize the burial, since he was now the odd brother out. The linoone was squeamish and went practically catatonic after his nervousness caused him to trip over a murdered tyrogue. The embarrassment of the whole deal made him meek, and best of all it put a stop to the ashamed glances he kept throwing at Heetz. The two linoone congregated to one of the pits. Heetz handed him a spade used for breaking the hard ground for beneath the snow – the deeper the bodies, the less likely their bones come up with the flowers in Spring. Allworthy spotted Frig's wordless, offended growl, and knew that the rivalry was far from working itself out.

Allworthy began to settle in for the night, which meant giving in to his pent-up anger. It took him longer and longer to bark out his orders without giving away his turmoil. The older members of his troop saw this shift like patterns in the sky warning of a great thunderstorm. They tried their best to look as busy as possible. Sans knew better than to approach, but something was bothering him. It was important enough to risk a beating.

"Commander?" He said. The herdier whipped around, his breaths coming out in hot huffs of steam. "A-ah… uh… we ought to check Nasfereet's records, right?"

"Check his records. Uh-huh."

"Because there might be a Punishment near here. If we get the bodies there before sunup…"

"Then we won't need to Punish the living. Sans, would you like to be in a real war?" The blitzle was taken back by the question.

He stumbled over his words in an attempt to answer. "What—no. I mean, I'm willing to fight in a battle if Atlas needs me, of course. But I'd rather not. R-rather not encounter the situation. Like I said—"

"Stop, stop stop!" Allworthy trounced the anxious Sent with a swift cuff to the nose. In the cold, it left a stinging feeling in its wake. "I wouldn't dare protest sending those already dead before the living. But if word spread that Atlas was now tossing in casualties of war all willy-nilly? Well, Sans?"

The blitzle nodded in understanding. "I would think that it'd cause villages and cities to attack each other. So they can get outsiders to take their Punishment." After hearing the words out loud, sadness almost overtook him. But then he grinned.

'Thanks for setting me straight," he said.

"Whatever," the commander replied in the middle of a short guffaw. The compliment helped him cool off a bit. He scanned the Punishers who weren't out scouring the woods, looking for anything amiss.

It wasn't hard to see Heetz and Frig caught in a frenzied argument, especially since a tranquill was jumping about them, begging them to not fight. Allworthy was just about to look away, never willing to get involved in a problem that was busy solving itself. But at the last moment, in the corner of his eye, Allworthy caught Frig chucking the spade at Heetz. The not-so-blunt side of the spade thwacked him right between the eyes. To Heetz's credit, he refused to fold over in pain. He launched at his brother instead, falling into a nasty scrap.

"Commander!" The tranquill yelled, flapping away. "Commander, commander!"

"CheepaCheep," Allworthy said, "I see the fight."

"Commander, commander, commander!"

"Yes, I'm working on it! "The herdier grunted. He tried to work himself into the tangle of blood and fur. Heetz's wounds had reopened onto the snow, making everything slipper and far more stressful.

"Commander, commander, commander," CheepaCheep insisted. "Comma-aa-nder—"

"Ah!" Allworthy surged forward, bucking Frig several feet away. The rest of the camp froze with trepidation. "CheepaCheep, you've reduced me to begging. Have a soul and stop…" the bird was the most experienced tracker in his troop, mostly because Allworthy sent him out whenever he had the chance. One moment everything would be well. Yet all it took was a moment of excitement for the tranquill to start panicking. The blizzard made him useless for the hunt, so there wasn't any other choice than to keep him close. Allworthy panted - his body pleaded for more fighting. "What… is going on?"

Heetz staggered to his hind legs. "H-h-he is the worst brother any Sent could have!" The insulted brother bared his fangs as a reply.

Sans inspected the linoone's back. Then forced the crying Sent to lie down immediately, when he saw the damage. "Yikes, you're bleeding all over again."

"But I need to tear him up. He doesn't have an inkling of sympathy for his own brother."

"Our family suffered for weeks because you couldn't help yourself. We almost starved!" He turned to Allworthy, as if the herdier was the deciding vote to their fight. "My sister was supposed to be paired with a mate from a well-off family. And he convinced him to run off. No dowry, no shared money, no nothing. If her mate didn't come back out of his own volition, and if his family wasn't so forgiving, my brother would've had us living in the wilderness like a pack of Dociles! You lied to me, Heetz. Gone off to pursue him, my ass!"

"You asked me how long I knew that I'm…ahg." the creature writhed as Sans spread the balm with a hoof, the blue gel acting like salt to his wounds. "How could you not understand?"

"I do understand. You're greedy and—"

"That's enough!" Allworthy interrupted. "The time for this's gone since a few hours ago. It's the dead of night –- you won't gain anything by bickering when you can barely keep your eyes open." He turned to the healthier brother. "CheepaCheep, take Frig out and teach him a little about tracking. It's a good hour for that, at least." The linoone gave him an indignant look and tried to open his mouth, ready to express displeasure at entering the storm. "Don't even think about talking back. When a Sent wants to talk instead of fight you better damn well honor that plea, because it doesn't come often. Now get out of my sight!" Then he turned to Heetz. "You…

Nasfereet came forward, draped in his jacket and two different capes. "Try to stop giving me reasons to cite you. Keep your personal issues personal, or else they won't be, well, personal." Equally angered by the outcome of his scrap, the injured linoone shrugged off Sans's help. The weavile turned to his commander. "What a mess. I couldn't help but notice: you've been working hard at keeping those two in the good graces of your troop."

"If I didn't," Allworthy answered, "their heads would rot. I wouldn't be able to predict their next move. I'm doing a bad job of it, though. Imagine if that spade had hit his eye. That's what happens when you let a Sent's wounds fester. They become unpredictable. Incorrigible."

"A spade hits his eye. Then he'd be half-blind for a couple weeks, so what? But I suppose you're talking about the ramifications it would have on their friendship."

"Yeah." The frustration he felt before returned in an enervating sadness. He remembered the other times he failed his subordinates.

A few minutes of silence followed. Then, Nasfereet couldn't help but wonder.

"Who do you think won?" He asked. "Girrup or the lucario? Girrup surely couldn't be strong enough to take on a Wayfarer."

Allworthy chuckled with dulled amusement. "You would know better. I'm not allowed to know about her, remember?"

"Then let's exchange," the weavile said. It was quick enough for the offer to be considered desperate. "Tell me Girrup's strength, and I'll match their powers myself."

The herdier begrudged a few facts. "He hasn't earned a single victory." He looked over the remnants of the surprise attack. "Not without the Bonecrusher pointing him where to go. He could swing as much as he wants, but if Lu has even an ounce of spontaneity—"

"Say no more!" Nasfereet exclaimed, smiling. "It's safe to say that she will have found a way to win, provided this is the case."

Allworthy gave the jubilant right-hand a suspicious look. "You presume our forces lost, and that put a smile on your face? You forget to vote for the Punishers?"

The weavile shrugged. "Technically, the Wayfarers of the Storm are Punishers. This feud is nothing more than an old world-wide force of Atlas butting heads with this continent's government. To be technical, Lu's one-against-many war can be considered a civil conflict. She refuses to surrender Tobi to Duke Willard, and we refuse to reinstate her.' He took great enjoyment in Allworthy's shock. "There's your information, by the way."

"Ha! I wish I could say I'm being lied to." He had more to say, but was cut short by yelling: the word commander came bolting into their bubble of clear weather. "Oh, hell! I sent them out a few minutes ago. What could it be?"

"Stop him!" Frig shouted. "Roaken! Roaken coming towards you!"

Surely enough, a yellow lump of a creature, maybe a sandshrew, bolted on all fours through their camp. It bolted to and fro in an attempt to avoid the Punishers, who were too bemused by the spectacle to react. Sans stopped working on Heetz's back to watch the Roaken juke them. Allworthy spotted an ornamented cape on the sandshrew's back.

"Hey! That's my damned cape! Someone reel him in." By that time, the Roaken had nearly made its way to the other side of camp. The last guard in his path was Basil, who had been staring off into space ever since they had finished the burials. "Basil, what are you doing? Grab that sandshrew!"

Basil turned to look at the panicked Sent. It stopped in its path and let out a horrified cry. There was no way to pass the mountain of hardened flesh towering above him,

Then, the oddest thing happened: Basil put on a very concentrated expression, extending her arms. "Here, here," she whispered. "D-don't move." The giant zangoose was intimidated. She put a shaky claw on his head, and the other on his back. She lifted him, cradling him in a gentle embrace. The Roaken mixed utter confusion with abject terror. 'D-d-don't go tryin' to escape, now…"

She placed the creature in front of Allworthy. It trembled and shut its eyes – if it was in this bivouac during the attack, then it would have fresh memories of Girrup stirring in its head. Allworthy double-checked the cape. It looked like his, and smelt like his did before Tobi stole it away. The thought of how the young rebel came by it eluded him.

He tried his best to act like Girrup's opposite. "Hello," he said. "Enjoying a twilight stroll?"

The sandshrew looked up at him. "Yeah," he mumbled. "I, I, I… found this cape lying around. Helps me keep toasty. D-do these symbols on it mean something to your gang? Your friend gave me quite the scare when he spotted it. Gave me quite the s-scare."

"Obviously," Nasfereet said. "You look like you're about to piss yourself."

"I r-r-resent that remark," the Roaken replied.

"Lad, just tell me the truth. Do you know the location of a certain braixen? I imagine he offered it you, so you could help navigate their way through the Punishers."

The sandshrew took a deep breath. "My name is Sobrewright. I came south from my brewery to find new places of trade, and will have no idea why I died tonight - if that is your intention. I have no recollection of any braixen."

"Sobrewright? That's a long name for something that just stopped being a whelp."

"My friends called me Sobre. But it appears you and your league have slain them all, so there is no one to call me that." The sandshrew kept his wits, which were still slipping away one by one. He started to choke on the grief.

"Alright, alright. Settle down. I know you won't believe me when I say it, but I'm a world away from that other crew you encountered tonight. I'm willing to make a deal: you tell me everything you know except where the braixen and lucario are hiding, and I won't ask for the rest."

"What?" Nasfereet hissed. "That's the part we want, fool."

Sobre seemed ready to cry. Upon hearing the chance at a deal, he started to breathe often enough to get out another reply. "You're not going to trick me?"

"On my honor. Besides, this deal hinges on your enforcement, not my own. So tell us what we are allowed to know."

"O-okay." Sobre placed all of his hope of escape onto the herdier's promise. "When we discovered that our camp was surrounded, it was too late to do anything. My commander ordered that a few of us who could burrow or fly to hide, so that we could send out warnings. I hid under the snow for a couple hours… close enough to hear them attack… they couldn't find me, but I also couldn't move from the spot. Then, night fell. I heard them again. This time, I also heard their leader cry out the name Lu. In my state, I somehow pieced together that it was Lugum by their following conversation."

Allworthy stopped him. "Why is that important to you?"

"I can't say. D-does that break the agreement?"

"Gah… no, no. Carry on."

"I think they fought. It was so quiet, only scuffling. Then some large grunts and the sound of blows landing. They started to taunt her. That's when I felt a paw go through the snow – into my hiding spot. It was the braixen. He was scared out of his wits at first, yet still had the sense to listen. I hid him in my spot and peeked out. I saw Lugum. There was no way to save her – at that point, they were closing in. At the last second, however, the orbs shut off as if she willed them – and I managed to sneak in and pull her under just as she fainted, and just as they closed in. M-my commander has been searching for her for so long, and the braixen was injured, so I hid them in the forest and bid them to wait till I could get help from I.E at the Cherry Blossom Outpost. Which I assume you know about at this point. The braixen gave me the cape, and the rest can be told by the linoone who spotted me. I couldn't resist knowing for sure… a-are you okay? Did I break the agreement?"

"I.E." The herdier repeated. The camp became cold. The coldest. All of that pent-up frustration, the tiredness, the sudden sadness; Allworthy had discovered the root of his anger. An inkling of an idea that had clung to the back of his mind. "He's a mightyena. A blind mightyena."

Sobre nodded meekly. "Yes. How did you know?"

The commander ignored the question. "Nasfereet. If the Bonecrusher is in the area, it's safe to say he's going to attack this Outpost, correct?"

The weavile also nodded. "That seems to be his mission. Though it is rare for him to take on an action like this. Is something amiss?"

Allworthy was caught between a whine and a shout. He couldn't keep his head raised. "The Bonecrusher doesn't care about the Cherry Blossom Outpost. His mind is set on finishing off that mightyena. It's the last mote of guilt in his nasty mind, and now he has schedules its death." He turned to the Roaken. "Sobre, please, help me arrange a meeting with Lu – or Lugum, whichever name you want to give her. I swear on my life that no harm will come of it."

For some reason, the sandshrew felt compelled to oblige. It might have been the look of sheer dejection on the aging herdier's face, the expression not belonging to a killer, but to a fellow victim. "O-okay. As thanks for catching and sparing me in a war often without prisoners, I will. Where do you want to meet?"

"Is there somewhere noticeable, yet discreet?"

"A Disaster a few years ago caused a human schoolhouse to appear in this valley. We used it to relay messages during the summertime. Does that work?"

"Yes. Thank you. Take my cape and go."

Nasfereet gaped as the sandshrew departed, once again fastening the Punisher's cape around his neck. He turned to Allworthy, almost too confused to be furious. "There might've been no orders to follow," he spat, "but what you just did. It was – it was... damn it! It was blatant insubordination! This has to be reported when we reach Sunstarch. It's my obligation, damn you!"

"I'm not making it to Sunstarch," Allworthy muttered.

"Arceus's sake, what the hell has gotten into you? This is far out of line – out of character!"

"I threw away centuries of my family's honor for blinding that mightyena. It's all my fault. The Bonecrusher knows that killing I.E will free him of what little guilt he has left. But my soul's on the line as well. I can't let him have his way. Not this time."

Nasfereet couldn't believe what he had heard. What it insinuated. He jabbed a shaky claw at the broken commander's face. "You think about those words. You think about whether you wanted me to hear them."

"Aye, aye," he replied. The camp fell silent.

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

"Whazzat one?"

"That's an M," Allworthy told Basil, planting his paw on the letter.

The zangoose shifted about, the attitude of the camp dragging down her ability to learn. No one seemed to be able to rest easy. When the trackers returned, a few Punishers filled them in. They each found a place to sit, looking as fearful as their commander. "Em," she said.

"What idea do you have about this letter? What sounds can it make?"

"Hum. Mah and Moh?"

"Good. Why?"

"Because it's the first and, er, third letter in Momola. Mah-moh-lah." The herdier waited for a better answer. Basil growled with concentration. "A makes ah. Em and ah make mah. But that second letter ain't an a. Now that confounds me. How does one letter sound like another letter, then itself, all wrapped in one word. It's na' possible."

Allworthy tried his best to keep his head up – look like the image he made for himself in front of all his underlings. He ended up sighing. "Letters are like us, I suppose. They take on different forms depending on what came before them. All it takes is the right precedent to make a noise we've never made before."

She cocked her head to one side. "Is that in reference to the mutiny you're planning?" Fol, busy making drawing suicune in the snow, was the only one to hear the question. She took in a sharp breath and waited for the answer.

"Hell! Who said anything about…" it was obvious. The moment he discovered the Bonecrusher's plan, the herdier had stopped all duties. Nasfereet waited in a disturbed silence, praying to Arceus that he'd make some other choice. "No. I have my needs. Still, I can't throw this lot into a situation like that. Most of all Nasfereet. He's in such a friendless job, he'll be lonely the rest of his life if I put him into a hard spot. I don't want to ruin anymore lives."

"Why is that—"

"Why were you so chicken-shit with that Roaken?!" He snapped. Basil was taken back by the sudden change of subject.

"Oh. No reason."

"Uh-huh. Nice try."

"I reckon I'm good at hurting. I've done hurting once before, and I did it well. I don't wanna harm anything to death. Commander… I…

"Spit it out."

"I think I might've helped that mightyena. Never got the chance to check if he was blind, though."

Allworthy had rolled onto his back, all four legs stuck up in the air. The storm was beginning to clear up enough, giving way to the bright stars above them. Now he was upright again, eyes blazing with interest. "What? Tell me! When? Where?!"

Basil seemed upset to have so much time taken away from her learning. Still, she adjusted herself and agreed. "Sure thing. But... I may or may not have killed a Punisher."

Allworthy perked up. Fol accidentally pushed snow over her picture.

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

"Step right up, step right up!" Momola cried. She was so happy she could faint. "For ten poké a go, be amazed as the amazing Basil lifts up a sack. It's another ten poké bet for a second sack, ten again for a third… the Sent who pays for the toppling sack also wins back twenty poké!" The crowd of Sents clamored in front of the zangoose, waiting for the few first takers. Some were interested in the betting, and others in seeing Basil lift ridiculous amounts of weight onto her shoulders.

A claw reached out from the pile of chittering Sents. Momola had Trixie take the money from him and deliver it into a box next to her. "Sack number one," she announced.

The sacks were filled with whatever heavy things Momola could find. Most of them had dirt; there were rocks in them that Momola didn't bother to pick out. They dug into her back as she swung it over her shoulder. The crowd cheered. The payments started coming in droves.

A second, third, fourth sack made their way into her arms. The hardest part of it all was finding a comfy way to hold them. Oftentimes, the crowd liked to wait a moment before moving on – just to see if all their bet needed was a little time. The fifth sack was added in. It was the one filled with heavy rocks, to throw off Sents who tried to figure out her limits.

"That's a rock bag! She's gotta topple on the eigth!" One spectator cried.

"There has to be another sack in weight of stink on her!" They laughed. Basil didn't mind – it wasn't her, really, but the fertilizer Momola threw in there as a joke. That was her own game: get Basil to drop that sack of fertilizer all over herself. It made the crowd laugh and waste more money.

A sudden poking distracted her as they dropped the seventh sack on. They had to use a makeshift stage to lay on the sacks.

"Hey!" A Sent yelled. "Quit climbing your sis. You're ruining the bets!"

"Git you stupid runt!" Momola shrieked.

Coatzle laughed. Basil couldn't help but turn her grimace of exertion into a grin. "I wanna see what it looks like from up there!" He shouted.

"Careful on your way up," Basil grunted.

"Don't enable him you dunce, he'll ruin it."

Sure enough, it was Coatzle who made her topple, not the eighth sack. The child was light but teetering. She tried too hard to keep him balanced, and ended up falling back. The poochyena clung to the edge of the stage as everything else crumbled. Once Basil had been laid out flat, the poochyena dropped onto her stomach. The crowd groaned.

"Bet she planned it," the innkeep, a bibarel, said. "Well, I ain't getting my money swindled away on a game I can't predict. I'm no gambler."

Basil didn't care much for the arguments starting up over the game. She bent her head up to see Coatzle resting on her stomach. A fall like that should have left him wanting more. Yet he seemed upset.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Bleak's still sitting by where we found the rat. He hasn't left since this morning… we're all waiting to play with him. Aw…" Before he could say more, Momola stomped over to discipline him. Knowing that no one would play the game for the rest of the week, till Six-burrow's boredom returned, Basil decided to check on the charmander. Since that morning, he had been acting particularly odd.

It was too sunny a day to spend staring at dead mice. In fact, the mice was gone: some farmhand told Coatzle to eat it. Basil didn't like that. This wasn't something Momola went out of her way to chastise, however.

She closed in on the charmander. Bleak didn't even turn.

"Bleak," she called.

That got his attention. He yelped and whirled around. A brass knife was in his left hand – Basil squinted to get a better look at it. "B-Basil! Aren't you playing with the sacks right now?"

"Is that a contract?" She replied, figuring it out. Fear twinkled in his eyes. This was big trouble if the zangoose told on him. "How'd you even find it?"

"I'm so sorry. I've been feeling strange - until I got it into my hand. It told me… to go back to where the rat drowned."

"Told you? Oh, Bleak. This is trouble if I ever saw it. Gimme the knife."

"It speaks, I swear! It told me that there's ribbons of Sent blood floating in our irrigation. That the source is upstream. What if someone's hurt, and I need to go and save them?" The two of them turned to look at the long field. The seeds had just been sowed, so they saw all the way across. There was nowhere for a bleeding Sent to hide than in a mossy shed, used to house their rusted equipment. "I'm scared, though. I've been working up the courage to see for myself."

She knew it wasn't good to support this crazy behavior. Still, Bleak was an austere child. It took more than itchy wits to get him into a frenzy. "Let's go check. You'll see no one's there, then we can go eat."

"Thank you, Basil. I'm glad you were the one to find me. No one else would understand."

"I don't understand. I'm just a bit too accepting, I think."

"Right." He chuckled.

They made their way over to the shed. Bleak held the contract in a furtive spot just in front of him. Every few steps it would jerk, almost as if on its own volition. Basil wondered why he'd feel the need to fake such a thing when she had already agreed to check the shed.

When they reached the shed, Basil swallowed hard. A hardened pulse of blood went through her sore arms. The door was slightly ajar. Droplets of blood stained the mossy steps into the rank place. "Yikes," Basil said out loud. "I reckon your contract wasn't lying."

"Basil, you're next to me, right?"

"Aye."

"No one's behind us?"

"Too busy hollering at each other. Money's a powerful thing."

They entered a step at a time. Lo and behold, it took no more than a moment to spot a kadabra heaving under a countertop housing a collection of spades. She had a mightyena wrapped around her. Basil took the lead away from the charmander, who had begun to hold his breath. The stench of old and new blood tainted the cold place.

The kadabra held her arms up in surrender. By all accounts and purposes, it did not seem an intelligent creature. "What're you two doing in our shed?" Basil asked.

"Please," the kadabra sobbed. "Please, he needs your help. He won't survive long without help." The mightyena seemed to be long dead. Yet his eyes were wide open, twitching.

"Now slow down, I don't even know—"

"Please!" The force of the shriek made her let loose a miserable cough. "Let me die. Let me suffer, I don't care. Just bring him away from this awful place." There was another cough. Basil thought it was the kadabra again, then thought otherwise when the creature started to wail. The mightyena started to shake violently, coughing blood onto the wooden panels. "No, no, I.E. Don't. Don't. Don't." The shakes began to turn into jerks. His back legs kicked at the ground, as if he was getting a running start towards the Unending Hunt. "I.E…"

"There's naught to do if his spine is broke," Basil said, noticing the unnatural bend in the dying Sent's back. "He's as good as dead. Sorry."

"Basil. I think I can help them." Bleak moved in front of her, resolute. The way he held the contract hinted at his intention, and made Basil more than a little doubtful. Should she allow him to risk it? If he succeeded, what then? If he failed, what then? Then it became obvious that it wasn't her choice. It was something that the charmander just had to do – no excuses, no arguments. The zangoose stepped aside. "I'm going to help," he announced to the wailing kadabra. She stopped crying and looked at the contract in his hands.

She looked down at the mightyena, growing ever still. "What are you doing with that, child?"

"I need something long and sharp," he answered.

"You've got a knife."

"I can't give away the knife, because Momola would wonder where it went. Basil, are there any sharp things on the shelves?"

She looked through the floating dust of the shed for a tool. Harried by the scene in front of her, Basil chose the first she saw: a long nail used for repairing the roof. "This?"

"I think it'll work. It'll tell me how to do it." He took the nail into his other hand, scraping off some of the rust with a claw. "Sorry, Basil." Bleak seemed possessed by newfound knowledge. Without so much as hesitating to ask, he drew the contract across Basil's thigh. It hurt like hell.

"Bleak!" She cried.

"Sorry! It says your blood is sturdier than mine." He took the contract and wiped the blood onto the nail. When it started to spread thin, he went back to Basil's wound for more. The more he rubbed, the more Basil sensed something new in the shed. A product of whatever the contract bid Bleak to do.

"Child," the kadabra whispered, too awed to cry any longer. "You're a spirit welder."

"Sure," he muttered. He finished the nail and pointed to a hammer hanging from the wall. "Basil, the nail needs to go into back." The zangoose stared at him. "…How about today?!" The charmander snapped. "It's an Alignment. His body will attune to yours, taking the force of the injury like you would. I promise it has a chance of working."

Basil snatched the hammer from the wall. The kadabra bit down hard on her doubts and offered up the body of her friend. Basil did the same, placing the point of the bloody nail onto the tip of I.E's mauled flesh. With a single tap, she drove it home.

"Ha!" I.E cried. His body was still yet full of life. "I get it! Best foot forward! I don't like being the butt of the joke, but it's still pretty—" he fainted again. His breaths were normal and healthy.

"That's supposed to happen," Bleak assured them. "There will still be damage, but it will be as though he had Basil's strength when he took the blow." They looked at him in awe. The charmander's tail-flame flared up with satisfaction at his handiwork. "Now – is there somewhere we may take him? He needs to be carried carefully, so I'm afraid Basil can't take you both."

The kadabra's relief was intoxicating. "Oh, I.E, I thought I lost you. T-take him to the South entrance to the forest, and lay him out next to a stone cropping. You'll see it in the distance. A patrol should come and pick him up… ahg,"

"Go ahead, Basil," Bleak said. "I will attend to her injuries."

"Aye," the zangoose replied. She scooped the mightyena up, far more delicate than she'd be with a sack of rocks.

"Yes," the kadabra said. "Show me more of your spirit welding. Bleak, is it?" He nodded. "Show me what else the contract tells you to do."

Basil left the two to their own devices. She marveled at the funny turn her day had taken.

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

"That's enough," Allworthy said. He had a big grin on his face.

"We haven't got to the murdering part yet."

"Don't worry, I've heard enough. It's all too hilarious."

"Na', it's pretty sad in my opinion. To have to watch 'er friend twitch like that… even if he got better, it'd be hard to forget."

"No! I meant this predicament we fell into. We're chasing the child who saved the life of someone I thought I killed. And then we have the rest of the party popping up: Lu, the princes, the Bonecrusher, . I bet there isn't a soul in this valley that wasn't fated to come here. Making histories between ourselves, hashing up the old things, trying to forget about it. I was restless before, but I think I can wait now. I've got to be prepared for the moment it all smashes together. Maybe I can write over my old mistakes."

Basil nodded. "Maybe. I'd just like to know how to write."

"In time," he said, turning over to catch some shuteye. "In time, we'll all be getting something, whether we asked for it or not.

A/N: fun fact: Alignment is a reference to Align Orbs from PMD. Also, there was a major inconsistency in the last chapter. Tempranillo had a mysterious name change to 'Sarsaparilla'. Too much damned Fallout: New Vegas. That should be fixed.

Also: thank you to the few people who have read this far in. I hope that the plot is follow-able, and that you are enjoying the characters. If you ever need clarification on the plot/world, or just want to give your opinion on a certain choice, feel free to let me know. Thank you again for getting to the tenth chapter and over forty thousand words in!


	10. Tobi's Cry, part one

Tobi sat awake, a victim to the throbbing of his leg and thoughts about the book he threw away. The longer the hours passed on, him propped up against a tree, Lu sleeping off her wounds, the more he realized that it was a mistake. Sure, he hated what that book did to Lu. If left alone with it, she would be led about by its promises. But he had tossed it away like trash instead of weathering Lu's need for the book, and now there wasn't a thing in the world that could separate his intention from the act. He stared at his bandaged leg and felt the emptiness that took over where the Pack had been. Lu rolled about restlessly, kicking out occasionally as if on the tail of some prey. The prey leaped ahead of her by inches, making her grunt with frustration. Tobi wanted to sleep. His body wanted to recover. Someone had to keep an eye out.

Just before he could nod off, Lu began to wiggle about. The lucario snapped awake with a yelp, shooting up to her feet. He always found it charming how she never became groggy. The first few nights together, he thought she was just pretending to sleep – trying to make sure he didn't run away. The Sent honestly went from two dead asleep or wide awake, no switch in between.

She towered over the braixen, giving him a confused yet joyful look. Questions sprung to her, none of them as important as knowing that they escaped.

"Hiya," Tobi said.

"Hiya," she said back. Her tail lashed and she wiggled once. Playful. Then she remembered what Tobi had done, and through that remembered to put some distance between them. She took several steps away. The bark against her back crackled. "Tobi, how is your leg?"

"Fine," he said. It hurt. With memories of his dances always in his mind, so were the compliments. The life-changing moments he provided were the best memories. He had strength and flexibility, yet somehow avoided showing them both. A body like his was priceless. And whenever something came close to hurting him, it felt like an attempt on all the good things he had left. He could tell that Lu felt the same.

"Nuh-uh. You're worried about it."

"There's the chance that it was set wrong. All it takes is a lasting injury, and I'd lose years of training." He tried to figure out if this talking about himself was a good idea. Lu hadn't asked how they escaped yet. She just sat there, watching him.

Cold air came out of the lucario in short puffs as her body picked up. One in particular came out quick and heavy. She sat down and scratched her head with a hind leg. "Tobi."

"Hm?"

"I can pretend it never happened. I'm really hoping you'll decide to talk about what you did to my book." Never was she so forward about a problem. Gone was the game of guesses and lessons. Tobi realized that he was witnessing Lu at the end of her rope.

Just on instinct, he replied, "it wasn't yours …" his throat clamped up. Bad idea. "I'm so sorry I threw it. If I could do it over again—"

"No."

"Huh?"

"That's the wrong answer. It's too late to make the right decision. You have to learn your lesson and promise me that it won't happen again. Understand? How is your leg? You look super cold!"

The braixen tried to keep up with Lu. She kept putting out blunt instructions, so far away from her usual self, like she couldn't help it. Like the desire to help him was still a priority. The goodwill competed with new thoughts, though, he had managed to crack the seams. She smiled and spied a look at the bandages. In the night it was hard to tell the damage. Neither of them thought of it as threatening, however.

He nodded. "I promise, Lu. I'll be patient from now on."

"Great! Where are we?" She asked, at long last. "How did we escape?"

"Well," he recited, "you shut off the orbs, so the blizzard came in. They couldn't find you. So I came back after they left—"

"Tobi!" A voice called out. It had a harried note to it. Lu's eyes went wide with surprise. A sandshrew came bumbling through some brush. He wrestled against the branches that snapped off in his wake. "Ah," he gasped. "You're both awake."

'We came back," Tobi amended, scowling. The Roaken returned the favor. "His name is Sobrewright. He comes from that Outpost you read about."

Lu waved. "Hi! Thanks for the help. That was troublesome, huh?"

Sobre melted under her smile. "H-h-hello. And yes. Yes. Troublesome." He hastily extended a claw. Lu, still smiling, raised up her paws at the motion. "Sorry!" He cried. "You must still feel a little guarded. I didn't get to see your fight – I had burrowed for my life – though I did get to hear Girrup lose his mind. I can't thank you enough for his humiliation. And to discover that you power lies in your wit – I don't know why I imagined it any other way. It w-would take great wit to defeat a Punishment, of course!"

"Wow, thanks for the nice words! Wait." Her smile fell into an astonished gape. "How did you know that?"

"The usual rumors," Tobi spat, trying to answer for the Roaken.

"Roaken don't turn their heads at rumors. We don't have time for daydreams. Not on the field. Not even if we were to attend a fancy ball... or a thousand, like I'm sure you have."

The braixen pointed at his leg, incredulity making him growl. "That look like a bad ball-dancing accident to you? I'm not just some royal weakling, idiot. I've earned my place here."

"Earned. Right, right. Lugum," he said, "he swore that I'd regret leaving him to those Punishers. Please, explain why you've been tasked with parading around Atlasan royalty." Lu didn't quite hear the question - or not the one Sobre wanted her to.

"Lugum?" She replied, picking out the word that mattered most. "Why are you calling me that? Why did that kadabra write that name in her journal?"

"Likely as not, it's your name. That's what the Strategists claim." Sobre put on his best smile. It fell very short of the real thing.

Lu turned her head to the side. "Oh. Hellingly found my real name? I hope so... and is he really looking for me?"

"Our commander has been searching for you ever since we arrived in Orchidia. Strategist Hellingly tried written messages, lookouts – any resources we could spare went towards obtaining you. Yet we never caught you, and he isn't able to be of much help while in Roake. I'm sure that all will be forgiven by commander Missan, though, when she hears of how you saved my life. She's with you, of course, if you've gotten a look at her journal-"

"She's dead," Tobi interrupted. "We buried her a few hours ago."

Sobre's eyes widened and he plopped down in the snow. "Dialga, spare me the moments like these, even if I must reflect on them in time." The braixen flared up at the reference to Roake's denizen Legendary, but had an inkling of respect which prevented him from scoffing. "I... I don't know how to feel. The action of tonight has charged my body - it's hard to feel anything but the rush of survival. All dead. Out of our seven in that camp, I'm the lone survivor? W-what I wouldn't give for a drink from my brewery!" He gave an unconvincing chuckle. "Regardless, this just makes it more of an imperative to escort you to our outpost... Missan's legacy relies on it. After some obligations - which I'm sorry in advance for the delays - we can carry on."

Lu felt horrible for the fate of the lone sandshrew. "I'm sorry to hear that the Punishers did this to you. Some of them aren't right in the head."

The sullen Sent shot a look over at Tobi. "What Punisher or Atlasan is? Still, I've found at least one capable of mercy. He requested that you meet him at an old Disaster deeper in the valley. When I tried to look past his intent, He seemed as set aside as I was when I saw the mounds that held my friends. While you engage in whatever parley he has planned, I'll order things back here: collect our research left in the bivouac, make sure my members are given a Roaken farewell, and gather a child who might be in danger back at Six-burrow." Lu nodded to each item on his agenda, as if validating them for the young Roaken.

Tobi caught on quickly. "If you're talking about a charmander, don't bother. He fled your way a long time ago."

"In the middle of that awful storm," Lu added, the thought making her sad. Their battle with the Punishers had thrown them off their path.

"I suppose I will be looking around the Disaster, then," Sobre said. "I hope he fled straight for our outpost. A-anyhow, it's best if we proceed. Will the Atlasan manage on one leg? With the storm gone, his whimpering could attract unwanted attention from Punishers or Ferals."

"Bite me!" Tobi yelled. Every moment things refused to go his way, a bit of frustration had caught in his throat. Now it all came out at once. He scrambled up to his feet, all the weight placed on his good foot until he found a decent branch to lean on. His expensive wand was lost during the chaos earlier – Tobi prayed his father wouldn't somehow know about him hobbling around with a stave. "Like surviving this somehow made you better than me. We've all been through shitty events, that's Orchidia, get over yourself! A-and by the way? That book Missan wrote? I tossed it away!" The look on the Roaken's face became so dejected, Tobi almost considered stopping. The rage won over. So look who's spouting out jibes now you-"

"Tobi, shut up!" Lu shouted. The noise caused him to jolt, and left his body racked with shock. Before anyone else could get a word in about the reaction, Lu swapped out her snarl for a grin. "That's mean to say, silly. I'll scout ahead as we go – just point out the direction when I wave to you, Sobre!" The lucario pranced through the trees, out into the valley blanketed in white snow. Tobi watched her leave, agape. Sobrewright himself sat still, then gave the braixen a very condemning shake of his head.

Two years had changed a lot of things, but Tobi began to feel them changing back, as if it didn't matter. Just like two years ago, he had lost all control over his choices. Tossing books, yelling awful things at a coin-drop… just like two years ago…

The act of caring for him was driving Lu insane.

Two years ago

The world was quiet. Finally.

Tobi kept his eyes wide open, staring at the bottom of the barrel. The wooden planks, bolted together, wavered at the bottom before his eyes. Light reflected off the screws, making them look like stars. Streaks of softer light came through the cracks of the lid not covered by his body.

It was better this way. No matter what anyone promised, he knew the truth. It was better this way. He knew his purpose. He knew that once others figured out his purpose, what came next only hurt both of them. And even if he didn't mind being used – he did – he still wouldn't wish himself on anyone. It was much better to just cut out of the possibility.

The braixen smiled. His body, once an ally in his journey to stardom, now his worst enemy, was losing the fight. The urge to breathe took over, yet his will kept him locked in the barrel. He closed his eyes and started to swallow the rainwater.

The world was quieter than any attempt before. Tobi couldn't help but feel that this was it.

Then a paw grabbed his back. His eyes shot open and he started to struggle, but the attempt itself had weakened his ability to carry through. The strong arms wrapped around him lifted him up, to air. Out there, his body would recover even if he told it not to. Why wouldn't anyone care for what he wanted, not even himself?

It all came back to him at once. The merrymaking leaking through the back wall of the inn, the clamor of the crowd that had gathered to offer help, the commands of the lucario he couldn't quite make out yet.

Lu stood over him. By all accounts, they panted and sputtered as if both had been submerged. She had a desperate look in her eye. Tobi locked eyes with her, unrelenting, asking: put me back.

"Golly, it's rare. Rare stuff to see. I thought he was taking a long draw from the barrel. Not till five minutes went on did I even think to come and get you." That was the droning voice of the innkeeper. Two female Sents cried and moaned about witnessing such a heinous crime.

"Thank you," Lu replied hastily. "I'll be returning to my room. It won't happen again," she lied. "Sorry. So sorry, excuse me."

Tobi felt her carry him all the way to the first floor. There was a second floor with better privacy, but Lu had to keep away from heights, even the smallest ones. They'd been at this game for weeks. He thought the lucario would give in. Weeks of torture had crawled by since his rescue. The patrons of the inn watched them and knew nothing at all.

Lu threw him down onto the straw bed. It was soaked through the moment he pushed up against it.

"Ha." He laughed. "Did you want a chance with Entei's avatar? Trying to work up the courage all these weeks?"

"Quiet. Quiet. Quiet," she pleaded. It was quiet in the barrel, he almost recommended it to her. "Please. Why won't you stop? I don't understand. I have tried so hard to be nice. But you just won't stop trying to hurt yourself."

"You know why," Tobi replied. "Once a Sent tries to off himself, his spirit is broken. That's what they say! Once you try, you develop an addiction to the idea. I think… I think it's because a Sent's due to try it only when they've lost everything. I did. I lost it all. Failing the first dozen times changes nothing... I'm still doomed."

"Then be happy!" She cried. "Smile or something! Dang it, you're making this so much harder than it has to be!"

"Lu?" It was the first time he used her name since they met in Treasurus. She perked up. "I don't want to see you torn up over me anymore. I promise: walk out the door, let nature take its course? I won't blame you when I got to the Unending Hunt. Fixing me is impossible… I know I'm better off to everyone dead. There's no fixing a fate like that, okay? Maga showed me how powerful a thing fate can be."

Instead, the lucario lower herself to the braixen and hugged him. By all accounts they were strangers. Yet she embraced him as if they weren't. Her head hung over his shoulder. She let loose a large sigh.

"Are you crying?" He asked, curious.

"No. We haven't lost yet. I can still change things."

"So if I drowned in the barrel, would you cry?"

"I would cry, yeah. If you die, then all the work put into rescuing you would be for nothing. Which is why I can't let you do it."

"Have you ever cried?"

"No." She said. "I'm always at my best when I'm put against the odds."

Tobi let out an honest chuckle. The thought of Lu never losing provoked a dull, faint warmth in his chest. "At your best?" He repeated. "You're breaking apart at the seams over me."

She nuzzled his back. "Ha. I could do this for years, silly."

"You won't win. I'll drive you off someday."

"Well stick around and see, then! Can you promise me you'll stick around? At least… at the very least… try to fight back. Choose me as your last thing worth fighting for."

With a burst of confidence, the braixen surprised himself by giving more than an okay. "I promise," he blurted out. "I can at least try, I guess."

Lu grinned victioriously. She laid down on the wet hay beside him, pinning him down with an arm. Tobi watched the wood ceiling, how it didn't waver. Dry land. The pain, not as bad as before. He wondered how long Lu could make it stay this way.


	11. Bleak's Quickening

_Child, where did your anger come from?_

_Is it that obvious? It must be obvious. Face-down in the snow and everything._

Somewhere in the last hour he had rolled off of Maga's chest and into the snow. That alone should have left him frozen to death, yet he felt quick. Thoughts jetted through his mind. After the nightmarish march he took, simply being awake felt like a surge of strength.

_Don't kid around, we haven't the time. As much as I wish to speak to you, the longer you hear me, the worse your odds become. Work while answering my questions._

It occurred to the charmander that not all the thoughts in his busy mind were his own. He pushed himself up, surprised when his arms locked under him and his legs held his weight. He wobbled, taking a look around in the dusky valley. The pile of snow Maga rested against had started to swallow him up. Their scant belongings were also beginning to disappear – lost until summer. The makeshift scarf and its pearly white were long-gone, the relay orb became a blue tint impossible to see without squinting.

_Who are you? What work do you mean-_

The ornamented contract slowly slid down the mound. It melted the snow as it fell.

 _Of course,_ he thought, exasperated.

 _Over days of travel with the mienshao, I have stolen away the life his body shed and collected it as rime on the edge of my blade. But there is more to be done to ensure your survival. Pick me up,_ the contract insisted.

 _It's his life. Why didn't you give it back to him?_ The jeweled blade pulsed. Bleak could feel the blade's rejection to his idea. It was the way the contract usually communicated, through pulses and heat.  _I guess I've seen what good the reviver seed did.. what can be done to save us?_  Another pulse. Bleak picked up the contract and eyed it, frustrated.  _What do you mean, leave him alone?_

The contact between them had grown so clear, Bleak could hear the contract pause while it found the right words.  _Forgive me. His time has come. Even if he breathes, Maga's time on Pokéterra is at an end._ Bleak shook his head.  _This is in no way your fault. After his evils, it is natural that he should meet his end._ Still, the charmander stalked up the mienshao. With a shaky claw, he closed the Sent's eyes. The way they seemed to watch him… Bleak wouldn't be able to save himself.

"Tell me what to do," he said to the still air – thinking at the knife had worn out its novelty. Overall, it was a bad deal. Though a deal nonetheless, one that would give him another chance at life. After a moment, the contract pointed out the relay orb to him. Its polished surface glowed with a faint light. Then he heard something peculiar: the faint noise of the contract humming. Not pulsing as it did when sending a message – humming in thought, pensive about their next move. "Oh boy," he muttered. "Are you thinking this up as you go… what do I call you?"

 _Of course not. And you may call me the Contract. Not a contract, the Contract_ , it told Contract got to work on explaining the steps towards new life. _After he doused your tail-fire, you lacked the strength to return its fire. We will… crack the orb open. Even if its potential has been dried, the result will be as if the orb's creator unleashed an attack on you. It will be very painful. I will channel this result into your tail._

"Anything else to do besides, well, cracking and crying?" Bleak asked. He plucked the orb out of the snow, already steeling himself for the coming acts.

_No. Just prepare yourself. Also, answer my question from before: what happened to you that made you so angry with Arceus?_

The tip of the blade clinked against the orb. It would be easy to feign ignorance, but harder to lie to the tool saving his life. "Nothing. I guess things sort of lined up. Where I grew up, the Sents I hung around with… there was a dead rat in the irrigation one day, I saw my sibling eat it and I guess everything that came before just clicked. I couldn't bear the thought of the way things are, Punishments and all. It's stupid. If I hadn't heard you, I'd still be spending every waking moment wondering how I might make things different. I know I'd be."

 _You must be a brilliant child,_  the contract told him. It was positively radiating with pride.  _You took your life into your own hands. Unlike your kin, or Maga, you will not be led to the slaughter blind. The Contract was made to help those like you._

 _Did I really?_  He thought to himself.  _This is closer to making a difference than watching Basil chuck sacks all day. But is this real progress? Yeah, right. I can't even save that rock-for-brains mienshao._  He remembered that the presence could read into his thoughts, and he ducked away, embarrassed. "Uh. Here we go."

_Yes. Go._

With a quick lunge forward, he stabbed the tip of the contract into the relay orb. Nothing happened at first – perhaps he managed to avoid the backlash, or the voice had been wrong. Then the pain slammed down on him, making him let loose a cry befitting his age. For a brief moment he saw it: the welder who made the orb. The Sent was trapped in the confines of some dark room, forced to weld a stranger's lifeblood into polished stone. The emotions he felt were unbearable. Looking this way and that way as he forced energy into the prettiest thing in the room, delivered on a tray through a gap in the bolted door. He needed to make every drop of it count. So he could drink the rest because the cups of water they served was never enough. Anger poured into the beautiful gem. Anger at having believed the Punishers who came to pluck him from his merry band of performers, who made pretty coin by selling night-lights to affluent Sents. Anger at the spirit welder who served him fine food for a few days to earn his trust, then locked him away, only bothering to check on him on the rarest occasions. Fury, stronger than the anger and more private, at not being good enough to earn his keep. His welds weren't that great, besides all his confidence. Too much went wrong. Too much. This would be the last orb he'd make, he'd rather take his odds fighting or scratching his escape. The pain that drove this decision also drove Bleak to heaving for breath. The voice was right about breaking the orb: it hurt. A lot.

But Bleak saw a different scene. Things changed from the past to the present, formation to the present. He saw the Sent in a lavish room, smiling and speaking as if he wasn't suffering weeks ago. The charmander's confusion entered the room as a cold chill. Curious, the Sent stopped speaking to the Sent – the one who left him to die – and checked his contract. He ignored it for the moment, instead he got up and grabbed a croissant from a table at the side of the room, watching carefully the zoroark reclining in a lounge chair. The prisoner wondered whether the zoroark noticed the chill as well. Also, if it was okay to take a second pastry. The young, lean Sent nodded to both. The welder was so focused on his captor, a title rang in Bleak's head:  _Duke Willard's get. The bastard who locked me up_. Duke Willard's son motioned. The welder turned right around and picked up a muffin, walked forward slowly, holding them out in offering. The zoroark took both pastries. Bleak couldn't hold back his disgust, and the welder couldn't ignore the child's presence any longer.

"Gretsky," the junior welder said, "someone's broken an old orb of mine. One all the way back during my... training." The senior welder, a limber, younger zoroark, perked up. Bleak perked up too, upon hearing the hesitation put into that word,  _training_.

"Don't let it remind you of your toil," Gretsky said. His voice was smooth, silky, as delicate as the way he bit into his food. He was altogether very persuasive. "It was necessary to bring out your latent power."

 _Horseshit!_ Bleak cursed. He sounded too much like a child. If only he sounded like the voice that spoke to him, then he might get the idiot to listen!  _Get out of there! That won't be the last time you'll be forced into that prison!_

"Ey, he just cussed at me!"

"What?! The voice  _speaks_ through your orb? Listen: you will feel a sensation when one brute or another stomps on one of your creations. But you will never see someone travel along that link well enough to trade words. _"_

"Well, I ain't the one yelling in my head. How do I get him out?"

"This sort of tomfoolery… I thought you were past bragging and sideshow performances. Perhaps your training wasn't complete." This sent a bolt of horror rippling up the Sent's body, who started to babble away his mistake immediately. Bleak clutched his head and groaned.

_I told you! See? See?! You're his puppet._

_Enough, Bleak._ That was the Contract's voice. The confusion of how that worked made him reel. _There is nothing to be done to help, for now. Your tail is lit, it's time to go._

_Fuckin' – two of you? You're going to get me locked up again. Leave! Get!_

_Fine with us,_ the Contract jeered. _Enjoy your slavery._

The first noise that greeted Bleak after his experience was the billowing of his tail-flame. The contract had fallen from the orb, which now had a neat hole in the center. He whirled around. The sight of his flames made him grin, and helped him forget the painstaking effort it took. Then he remembered what he had seen. The exhilaration faded. "Well," he said, feeling clearer than ever. "That was a bit crazier than promised. And sadder."

_That is the fate of welders seized by Atlas. They are the backbone of the Punishers, yet are looked down upon as mere dirt. But dwell on your victory instead. I did not expect for you to have such a connection! You are remarkable, child!_

"No way I did that. I saw him making the relay orb – that must have been weeks ago!"

_Like oils secreted into fur and skin, the past and future leave a stench that Legendaries, with their apostles, can discern. The past is the more obvious of the two, and you attuned to that welder's via the strong emotions in the orb. The same goes with luck and -_

"Whoa! I think I'm okay not knowing more."The idea of it all startled then terrified the young child. "Gah. Then why'd you ask me questions about my past? Why not… er, check?"

The Contract paused.  _We have brought company._

"W-what..." Bleak crouched up against the snow mound, listening for any nearby noises.  _What?_  He asked again, opting to stay silent.  _Do you know who it is?_

The Contract answered, but the answer felt far away. Bleak remember what it had said when first work up: the worse off he was, the clearer it could speak to him. He was feeling quite healthy now, and that made him sick to his stomach.

After hearing words come from inside for so long, Bleak visibly jolted when the approaching Sent shouted. "Hey! Who's behind that mound?" Bleak didn't answer. "Child, I could hear you cryin' and hollering." Again, Bleak chose to be silent., not knowing how to proceed. The Sent growled. "Why'd I get ordered to bother with the damned hooting. I swear on my life, if you're just a rotten Docile, I'll pick you up and toss you into a Punishment!"

A Punisher? Or just a commoner with a sturdy sense of humor? Bleak realized that he didn't have time to decide which; he barely managed to rotate around the mound before the cloaked diggersby came upon Maga. Bleak's eyes widened at the Punisher's cloak.

"Yikes!" He exclaimed. He lifted the mienshao's head up with an ear, which were large and had the full motion of a typical hand. The urge to attempt a rescue came over the charmander. But if he approached, the diggersby had plenty of limbs to fight with – all the better for twisting his neck. Things only got worse: the Punisher recognized Maga."Is this really… Arceus has blessed me today, whoo!" He hollered. "I found one of them princes! I'm rich! I'm filthy rich – he's  _breathing?"_ The diggersby laughed, checking for other signs of life. "Keep breathing, you fuck! You're worth more that way."

Bleak hopped out from the other side of the mount. He kept the knife hidden behind his back and the Contract pushed to the back of his head. It protested wildly.

 _Yeah, I know what I'm worth,_  Bleak though, hoping it would hear.  _But distracting me with that pulsing will just make it worse, now. I have to at least try to help._

The Contract went silent. Now it was a glorified tool for stabbing.

The diggersby didn't care for the charmander. "There's the damned runt. The body scare you?"

"Yeah. You could say that," the charmander replied.

"Well, you can scram now."

"Sure. Sorry for bothering you. Glory to Atlas."

He waited for some reply. "I'll punt you halfway across Orchidia if you don't get going," the Punisher said eventually.

"Right." Bleak started climbing up the mount, eyes focused on some pretend home just over it.

Then he whirled around and leaped onto the diggersby back, the contract in his hand pointed outward. He smacked right into the Punisher's back. Though unpracticed, he could tell that the would he inflicted wasn't fatal. The blade found some purchase – the back of his enemy's back was like hard leather. The jolt of the fall ripped him away from his weapon. The wound poured, though that meant nothing to a sturdy adult.

The Punisher wouldn't speak a word. He fumed in silent fury as he picked up the charmander.. Bleak cried out and struggled with all his might. No talking, no escape; Bleak was alone against the threat of choking in the Sent's grasp.

Trying to keep his wit, he looked around the best he could. Then he noticed: the cracked orb had never left his other claw. There was still a chance.

He swung up, running his small legs up the diggersby's chest. The Punisher tried to snare him with his actualy arms, but Bleak managed to swing his legs over the adult's shoulders. Then he twisted until he got a leg onto the hilt of the contract. At first he thought his neck would break before the Punisher gave in to the pressure, but fear won over rage; the Sent cried out and dropped the charmander. He ripped the contract from out of his back, tossing it away angrily.

Bleak rolled up and worked as fast he could. He picked up the contract and stuck it back into small slit in the orb. Then he drove the combination into the Punisher's stomach. The rush of violence helped the weak child push the knife right through the orb.

An explosive forced parted the two Sents. Both hands and ears had wrapped around Bleak's head again in an attempt to crush his skull, but they fell away at the sheer concussive blast. The charmander couldn't hear anything. There was, however, the sight of the diggersby laid out near Maga, and that told him all he needed to know. Already, panting and trying to regain his balance, the charmander began to tremble. That Sent was dead. He had killed him.

 _Child,_  the Contract spoke. The struggle had brought it back. Bleak couldn't be more relieved.  _You did not need to do that. Why would you do that to yourself?_

 _Why would I do that to him?_ The rush of the clash subsided. Bleak stared on in horror. "H-ha," he said. "I h-h-hate wrestling."

_Poor child…_

"I'm not a kid," Bleak answered, regaining some confidence. He took in a deep breath, and felt something near elation. "Well… I've got a lot to work with now."

_What?_

"I can use this Punisher to revive Maga. A permanent alignment. Even if he's death's door, something this large ought to do something."

 _Ask yourself: how many second winds does this Sent deserve?!_ The Contract asked.  _If you attempt something like this, there will be... penalties. There are reactions great enough that the conduit cannot escape unharmed. You risk disfigurement. You risk death. All to save this monster that is too heavy to drag to safety. A truly pyrrhic win. Please rethink this before you commit more regrettable acts of passion._

"You might find it over-passionate, but here's the thing..." he started dragging the two closer together. "I've always wondered why I was born a charmander. Did you know I was part of a litter? My tail-flame was so weak, my den mother told me once, that my mother decided to abandon me in a den. I could tell she wasn't lying – that's why she named me Bleak. Well, I've found a way to burn bright. I can lead him back. If I can do that… I can help others, too!"

 _Bleak…_ the Contract fell from his mind again. It throbbed sadly.

"My mind's made up," Bleak said. He gripped the bloody contract and prepared the straight alignment. Maga's back was now exposed. Bleak picked out a decent-looking wound to enter from.

"Childhood's long gone for me. I might as well skip to the growing up."

He stuck the knife in.


	12. Lu's Life, part two, the Trap, part one

_Five years ago_

"Eat it," the child said.

Lu gave the food a second glance. The chopped mango on the top made her balk. "No way! That's too crazy."

The nidoran stomped her hind legs. "This is a Novan delicacy."

" _Pizza_  is a really weird word for a delicacy. Who thinks up this stuff?" It didn't make sense – odd tomato paste mixed with sweet mango and ham, all slathered onto some powdery flatbread. How bored the Novans must be! "If you have something else-" the nidoran got up onto the table and tried to shove a slice into her mouth. Lu closed tight, jerking around.

"Eat."

"No way." The child's persistence tired her out. She bowed her head to hide her mouth. The two fell into a war of attrition: Lu remaining motionless, the nidoran smearing the pizza onto the bridge of her nose. The other children started to gather around. After a moment, they were able to recognize the entertainment, and started to laugh – nervously, at first. Some of them became brave enough to join in on the fun, they used their combined weight in an attempt to pin her. Others brought more ammunition to shove into her face. The children began to be very excited by the adventure.

Until Fabula came in. "Hey!" She cried, horrified. "What are you kids doing? She'll have food matted in her fur for weeks!" The den children got up one by one. Fab wasn't wrong, all Lu could smell and breathe was the surprisingly tempting smell of pizza. "Oh, if Beek saw how you treated his food.. whoever started this, I think an apologize is in order. In fact, one from each of you." the nidoran who started the assault scampered towards the den mother.

"Hello," she recited, "I am responsible. I wanted to impress our guest with good food, but she put up a fight. Sorry for ruining your fur, Lu."

The lucario was too busy licking off the tomato sauce on her face, anywhere her tongue could reach. "Oh. This is tasty," she said. In their trade, Paws and her rarely ate anything besides the gamey meat they wouldn't be selling. Paws kept seasonings on-hand. Still, though, Lu liked that pizza didn't bleed when she bit into it. "It's okay, we were just playing. I'd like a few pizzas now." The nidoran stood there, incredulous.

Fabula laughed. "We have the one. Unless you meant slices?"

Lu nodded. "Yeah, sure! Slices." A meowth reached up to the platter holding lunch and snatched a slice. He handed it to the lucario, who inspected it for a third time. She bit in – there was no doubt about it. It was delectable. Her tail wagged with glee.

Fabula cleaned up the mess made in the middle of her humble den. The place was spacious, which was likely the reason it was assigned to Fabula. Den mothers received some benefits, and a cozy living space was one of them. A slow fire crackled in the corner and the windows were opened. The former felt so much toastier against the sea breeze. A cabinet with windows in the doors held tons of toys. Like chew toys. Lu couldn't remember the last time Paws gave her something to chew on. Houses always impressed her. The idea of staying in one place for so long sparked her curiosity. The kids grew tired after the meal. Every minute, it seemed as though another of Fab's brood nodded off. From the dozen before, about five managed to stay awake. They eventually noticed her looking around the room in occasional awe. The deerling she had saved, Fawnis, spoke up.

"Do you like our house?" She asked. "You seem to like it."

"Uh-huh! I've never lived in a house."

"Well that's different from us. We went all the way across the water from Nova to get here, that house to this house. I'm a Novan from across the blue!"

"That must have been a fun ride." There was always jokes about how Orchidia and Nova might as well share Legendaries; Orchidia had Suicune while Nova had three Legendaries to its name, all of them heralding travel and good will. Orchidian shores are always in want of trade winds and Novans are, regrettably, always in need of tact. "Is that why you all like the beach?

The deerling got skittish at the mention of the beach. "Well, I don't know much I like it now..." for a young Sent, even something like the tide could seem personal. Lu wondered how long it would take for the child to forgive the ocean. "Mom told me it wasn't the beach's fault, it was the mean Sents who wouldn't come and get me. But those Sents are part-" Fab let out an anxious, sharp giggle. Fawnis stopped mid-sentence to check on her den mother. "Uh, momma, what's with that geese noise?"

"You are too nice to them all," Fab said. Lu spotted her eyes, like those of a tired beast wound down after hours of being chased. "How about you all go to bed. I'll walk Lu out."

"Aw! Can't she stay?"

"She's a wanderer, sweety. Her and her dad make money through hunting."

Lu smiled. "I can be back tomorrow. Now that I know where you live, I can find you quicker– we come to Whitestone every year!"

"I'm keeping you to that promise!" Fawnis smiled, yawned and milled about. The children still not down for their nap herded themselves into a warm pile near the fire. Fab nodded to Lu, and the two walked outside. The alleyway just outside was shiny white, made of rubbed-down stone. Square windows let their billowing drapes pull outside every time the breeze stopped.

The interruption had made Lu curious. "What are they a part of?" She asked, right away.

Fab considered the lucario. Then, stepped in close. "Nova''s a complete mess. At first it was just dissatisfaction – everyone I knew claimed it happened to every continent eventually. But every continent also has its own bloody revolution… by the time I was aware Sents, like the parents of these children, had made resistance groups. They were publicly demonstrating. Spitting at Atlasans. Scrapping with Punishers, even. So I told the parents that if they were going to waste blood… then the least they could do was give me their children."

"I… I can't really imagine doing that. Giving away my kids."

"It was most painful. But those who agreed knew how things were going to end. If only we had also known that Nova's grumbling would come to Orchidia on the same boat. They see our moving away as treason, they're worse than any gang of raiders ever seen – Lu, can I make a suggestion?"

Lu didn't like that sound of it. Her ears flicked dismissively at the advice to come. "What?"

The espeon kept her eyes on the stone. "Leave early this year. There are rumors. Awful rumors. At the market all the Punishers are gone. I've ought to have seen one in the market, or dragging away a poor soul for Punishment. Yet it is as if I missed it all."

"...What are you getting at?"

"Beek, the baker next door? He claims that the Punishers have left us alone. Whitestone grumbled too much, demanded a battle, and the Dukes elected to cease our Punishments instead. Which means they want to let a Disaster do their work for them."

There was a lot of that which Lu just couldn't believe. The Dukes would have to be insane if they though that was a good idea. Without proper sacrifice, Whitestone's nearby Punishment would summon a Disaster to tear the beautiful city asunder. Hundreds of Sents would die. "Fabula, that's really scary. I don't think it's true, though."

"You think it isn't? _"_ The den mother muttered in reply. "I trust your judgment. But the tide… I thought I knew it by now. The fact that Fawnis got swept up onto that rock..."

Lu clapped her paws. "Forget about it! And forget about me leaving. If there's trouble, then this place will need someone to sort it out."

"You're going to sort out a Disaster?"

"If it comes to it. Speaking of disasters, Paws has to be fuming by now. Thanks for lunch, see you around!" Fab couldn't get another word out before Lu whirled around and sprinted away on all fours. The espeon sighed and let her ears flop down. The lucario didn't even remember to wash off.

Lu was running too fast to notice the subtle differences on the shore. Sents traded and haggled as they ought to, but some of them were beginning to perk their ears. Growl or whine at odd times. Some began to walk away from deals before they were done, taken over by an urge to be somewhere else. Lu didn't notice – an idea had taken root in her head, and she wanted to tell Paws as soon as possible.

She found their stall quickly enough, but Paws was gone. Her ears flopped; the pork on the rotisserie was far past charred. Never before had he seen Paws leave his livelihood unattended. The burnt meat smelt awful, Sents went out of there way to avoid it. Something was wrong.

The crowds were hard to work through. Lu had the force of panic on her side, letting her shove past – the spike on her chest was also persuasive.

"Paws!" She called. "Paws, you burnt your food!" Just when she was about to double back to the stall, she spotted the pidgeot. He was talking with a few locals, all of them pointing at the beach. Then he pointed towards Whitestone, and Lu gnashed her teeth: he had been looking for her. "Paws," she called again, waving at him. The locals dispersed from around him, scattered by her voice.

The pidgeot was both relieved and furious at the same time. "Lu, where have you been?! Is that  _blood?_ "

"I-I, uh, I made a friend. A den mother, she fed me pizza."

"Good for you. We're leaving."

"Wait! I… I wanted to adopt a child."

She didn't get the reaction she wanted. Instead, she received a look that said:  _are you serious?_ "Lu," he groaned. "What?"

"Well I saved this kid on the beach a while ago, and she is really cute and brave. And I think she'd make a good hunter – I can teach her all you've taught me. I can also teach her letters. Also, I would be saving her from being a Punisher."

"Is that your whole plan? Adopt her and suddenly learn how to become a parent? I tried that with you. Trust me: I almost couldn't raise you at my age, and you just became a newbody. It's not normal for you to be so eager to throw years of your life away on a child you just met."

"But-"

"Enough, Lu! You don't owe that den mother or her child anything." Paws looked back at the waves. Maybe due to her disappointment, the waves looked as if they were harsher than before. Close to raging. The Sents in the water had fled. "And we're out of time."

A pain bloomed in her chest. It stemmed from a concern at the front of her mind. "What… do you mean?"

Paws jumped past her, pushing her along with an outstretched wing. "I got a tip from some old friends here. The idiots drove off their Punishers – this place is fit to blow. Rebels in the streets. Floods. Violence. None of it good for business!"

"N-no… the kids… they're in the city."

The pidgeot gave her a sympathetic look. "Lu. There's nothing we can do. It was the Punishers' job, and they failed. We're not equipped."

"Sure." The lucario hid her determined look by staring at the ground.

"Attagirl." The bird sighed. "Look. We can discuss this adoption thing like grownups once we are well away –  _Lu!_ " She spun out of his grasp and took off, running back towards the town. Now aware of the coming Disaster, the panic laced through the crowds was obvious. It put doubt in her. She quelled it.

"I'll be right back!" She called.

"Lu, get back here  _now!"_

The words never reached her. They fell, buried by the clamoring of the crowds still in the market.

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

Allworthy whistled at the schoolhouse in front of them for the third time since they set up watch. "Arceus – what's that damned Legendary planning?" Nasfereet shifted an inch to the right, away from his commander. After witnessing his insubordination, the weavile had started to distance himself. Allworthy couldn't blame him, but also couldn't find a reason not to try and keep things genial. "Most Disasters involve fire and storms. Every so often, though? Bastard sends us a classroom. Maybe he's trying to tell us to  _wise up_. Ha!" The entire troop's stilled breaths were drowned out by his great sigh. "Look at it. The chunk we got of that human place, it's beautiful. Ordered. See those numbers on the door? They've got their rooms all ordered, saw it in another Disaster like this."

He was right about it being a chunk of a larger place. The Six-burrow Punishment had stolen the place from the world of humans, in all its mystery, and gave it enough supports to stand on its own. He wondered if those humans were scratching their heads over this. Then again, recovered Earth technology proved time and time again that these upright beings were far past their understanding.

"Fuckin' brilliant."Allworthy guffawed. "What I wouldn't give to meet whoever built this!"

"I'll give you the benefit of the doubt," Nasfereet said, at long last. It was his first words since he threatened Allworthy at the bivouac. "This better be some intricate plan to seize Tobi. I understand we're out-clawed, so I believe this is a good approach." It was better than fighting; imagining Frig in a headlong charge at the lucario made him sick with the outcomes.

"All business now, eh? I remember when the thought of ruining Heetz's dream put a smile on your face. It wasn't till we got off the march that you quit your stupid damned procedure."

"Whatever."

"Yeah,  _whatever_. Whatever happens between us, I want you to know it's only part of the bigger picture. On our scale... you and I are friends. Get that into your thick skull." The troop perked up at the mention of friendship. They couldn't believe it: it took Allworthy but a day to change his opinion on the right-hand. He called the thorn in his side, the Sent responsible for ensuring his probation, a  _friend._  Nasfereet himself hid his reaction behind a stretched claw. Allworthy cursed the timing. Lu had arrived – with her small posse.

Heetz slithered up to the commander on his belly. So quick and quiet, he almost startled the herdier – he mulled over how well furrets would do at stealth. "Commander," he whispered, excited. "She brought the prince and that Roaken. W-why would she do that?"

It wasn't too confusing. "That sandshrew heard how disparate I was. If Lu knew half of it, then she'll have decided we're not a threat." Threat or no threat, the lucario took her time investigating the walls of the classroom. The sandshrew came in, mouth moving quickly with explanations lost to the night air. Tobi leaned on a walking-stick, head hung so low Allworthy would swear the braixen was wilting. After deciding that no one was waiting in the inside, she flung open the door again, hopped to all fours, and gave the place a more thorough search. She planted her paws on the walls, and sniffed at the chipped red paint. Then she yelled, loud enough for Allworthy's company to hear: _I really like this place!_ The braixen spun up towards the sky and let out an exasperated breath. It was almost charming, except the lucario's pelt was matted twice over with blood – and Tobi for all his fairness couldn't hide his makeshift cast.

"Glad you like the venue," Allworthy muttered. The lucario whirled around. She stared in their direction, eyes practically pinpointed on their spot. He had set up here to get a glance at the situation before palavering. The sudden glance made him freeze, unable to move even so the spot had served its purpose. "Get out," he breathed. "You're not that good."

Lu retreated to Sobre and Tobi. "Hello?" Her voice was loud. "Are you it?"

"Who's  _it_  – sunnavabitch! Heetz!"

Heetz had sneaked forward on his belly, just as stealthy as his brother. By the time the troop noticed, he had broken from his cover, into a full-blown sprint at the braixen.

"Tobi,!" he cried, "there you are – I was scared half to death!"

"You said you fixed him," Allworthy hissed at Nasfereet.

"A quick exposure-based treatment. When there' a predisposition, the charm relapses if the –"

"Gah, how did you forget that?"

"You put a lot on my plate. We should do something." Not only was he unaware of how Lu would react, but Tobi recognized the furret. He gripped his stick, ready to bat the Sent away. Just before things got too out-of-hand, Nasfereet popped up from his cover, starting a desperate dash towards the afflicted Punisher. "Don't hurt him! He's still charmed." Thanks to his injuries, Heetz couldn't manage to escape a tackle. Groaning to himself, Allworthy rose from his own spot. He motioned for the others to do the same.

The lucario beamed at the sight of Nasfereet caught in a frustrating wrestling match with Heetz. "Nasfereet!" She called. "I haven't seen you in forever."

The weavile rose up from grappling long enough to say: "a little  _help_  would be nice!" Lu peeled the two apart long enough to take Nasfereet's place. Heetz froze in her arms, the charm competing with the urge to flee, resulting in a standstill. The right-hand placed a claw on the poor creature's head. He pushed cloudiness into the furret's head. It didn't take much to make him fall asleep. "Thank you," he panted.

"No problem. How have you been?"

"Yeah, pal. How have you been?" Allworthy asked, coming close enough to debate whether Tobi or Nasfereet deserved a dirty look. How obvious. The tricky bastard knew Lu personally. It should have been a given, seeing how he spoke of her, asking questions about her well-being. "I wasn't aware you two knew each other."

"She, uh, helped me manage a problem. Lu," he said, "I know this is a bit rude… but do you mind washing off before we step inside? You have the stench of a dozen different bloods tangled into to your fur."

After a good sniff, the Wayfarer frowned. "Okay, I see what you mean. Tobi, can you help me?"

"Absolutely," he muttered. He looked annoyed, surprised, and more than a bit scared. His tail became droopy with anxiety. Odds were, he considered Allworthy's troop good and gone, and hated the fact they caught up. Sobre also opted out of socializing with the gang of Punishers.

The dark skies started to brighten. Dawn was coming – his fate, Allworthy knew, followed on its heels. "Listen everyone," he said once the three were out of ear-shot. "We're going to make a jab at seizing Tobi." The entire troop loosened up at hearing there wasn't some grand plan for mutiny. Then tightened at hearing that they would be poking the bee's nest in a grab for honey. "There won't be any fighting. But I need to get alone with the Wayfarer. Until then: we met them here to discuss Girrup's whereabouts. Don't mention our true intention, please."

"Obviously," Basil replied. Chuckles rose for a moment, then dwindled just as fast.

Nasfereet, though, kept his look of relief. Granted, the confusion at the bivouac made him suspicious, but it turned out to be for the best. The commander had surmounted the news that rattled him, and turned a mistake into a victory. Before compliments could be passed out, the lucario's posse returned from the distance. She was clean now, in relative terms, her fur returned to its normal creamy blue.

"Let's go inside," she said. "It's so neat in there." She flung open the door and padded on inside. Tobi and Sobre went in first, an eye kept on the Punishers waiting outside. Then, Allworthy motioned for his troop to go inside and find places to sit.

By the time they made it through the door, Lu was behind a podium at the front of the classroom. His troop, however, had a hard time finding a place to sit. The desks, as Allworthy knew them, weren't very form-fitting when it came to Sents. A crash rung out in the room as CheepaCheep tried to perch on top of the seat, only for the hunk of rust to tip him over. Basil, annoyed by the rows of tables, started to move them out one by one. Somehow, they all managed to find a place to recline. Or something to inspect, as the room was covered in posters and boards plastered with gaudy paper stars.

"Is this where the teacher gives lessons to the kids?" Lu asked.

"It sure is," Allworthy replied. It wasn't quite his classroom in Treasus, but it followed the same design.

"Cool. So cool."

"I needed to ask you a few questions. About your night, if you don't mind."

Lu frowned. "Did you want to know about that scizor?" The herdier nodded. "He seemed a little upset that I beat him up. I don't know where him and his friends went –"

"Lu, this is strange," Sobre interrupted. "I know for a fact that this meeting wasn't arranged to help locate that bastard. If you had heard the way he reacted to the name of my second-in-command, I.E, you would feel the same way. What are your ulterior motives?"

Allworthy knew better than to become defensive. He suspected that the sandshrew wouldn't let that detail slip by. He went straight into  _plan B._  "My outburst earlier had nothing to do with this meeting. You are right, though: I don't care much for Girrup. What I care about is earning an apology from that braixen." Judging by the exasperated glint in Sobre's beady eyes, the ruse worked. Nasfereet pulled out all the stops,

Tobi scoffed. "Are you kidding me?  _Apologize._  Not on your life."

"Damn it. Your actions represent Atlas. I understand you're playing runaway, but the least you could do is respect the forces that used to protect you. Bite the hand that feeds you, sure. But try not to forget what it did..." the braixen had become incensed. His teeth were bared, walking stick raised up. All the gusto did was actually make him less intimidating.

"I haven't forgot. Want me to return Atlas's favor to you?"

"If it comes in the form of an  _I'm sorry_ , then sure!"

"You don't know me! You don't know what the Dukes did to me!"

"I am a home-grown Atlasan you half-wit. And I didn't get half the goodies you did for waggling in front of royals."

Lu dove from behind the podium and smacked the stick away from Tobi. A small amount of cinder on the end of it was close to blooming into a full flame. In a tight room like this, a fiery scrap wouldn't be pretty. "Tobi, please!  _Please!"_ The braixen flopped down to the floor, fuming but silent. Allworthy's eyes widened; it was an opening, a crack in the seams between the two. Of course, it would have gone unnoticed in a fight. But her reaction made things clear: Lu was sick of watching the spoiled fox. "You should be nicer to others."

The herdier feigned guilt. "He's right. I don't know his story."

In a sudden turn, the lucario ran back behind the podium. She grinned ear to ear, the tip of her tail poking out from each side of the stand. "I don't think he ought to apologize. And the scizor is fine. Anything else you want to talk about?" Allworthy shook his head. "Well then – I want to play teacher." it was all so easy. He didn't even need to make an excuse to keep her in the classroom – though the reason came as a surprise.

"T-teacher?" Frig asked.

"Yup! You can be my students. I always wanted to teach a bunch of Sents."

"We're all grown up though," Sans said. He had a doubtful look on his face, questioning if this was some trap laid out by the Wayfarer. She couldn't  _really_  want to play teacher. "No one has time for games."

She let out a plaintive whine. "Come  _o-oo-n_. We've all had a bad time in this storm. Let's play!"

Basil moved closer to the front of the room. "Okay. Miss teacher, teach me spelling."

 _Clever lass,_ Allworthy thought. That was one way to get a head-start on writing.

An air of victory filled the room, stemming from the new teacher. Not knowing what else to do, Allworthy's troops sat down and watched the two talk about letters.

"Nasfereet," he whispered. "Go inform Tobi that we spotted Maga. On good authority, even if we ourselves know it as speculation."

"What?" The weavile hissed back. "Like he'd believe me. More like he'd burn me."

"Ain't about the belief. Go. Start by apologizing for me, that will open his ears."

The right-hand nodded. He took furtive steps, angling himself towards the braixen. Lu spotted him moving, yet Basil was too insistent about her spelling lesson. The two started a conversation – or rather, Nasfereet spoke at the upset braixen. But Allworthy knew the moment the weavile let the news drop, by the panic in Tobi's eyes. The braixen stared straight ahead, his silence no longer voluntary. Nasfereet turned back to shrug at his commander.

Now it was time to have a talk with the lucario. After learning of her pointedness, it should be easy. "Hey," he said. "Do you mind letting out class for recess? I wanted to talk to you outside. In private."

The lucario considered the risk of leaving Tobi alone in the room of Punishers. But she was far past doubting the fun group of Sents, who had given into her game. "Sure. I'll be back in five minutes. Sobre can teach the class!"

"To be frank, I find the idea of playing with this group insulting. I'll stay where I am, thank you."

Lu gave him a concerned look, though she chose not to reply. Allworthy turned around, confident that the Wayfarer was right behind him.

It would start and end in a moment – Allworthy's trap was sprung, and his plan underway.


	13. The Trap part two, Tobi's Cry part two, Lu's Life part three

**NOTE: This chapter also has Tobi's Cry part two and Lu's Life part three. Wouldn't fit in the title.**

* * *

"I'll be straight with you, Lu. I need to borrow Tobi."

The lucario frowned – Allworthy had an itch in his gut that said there was a chance of that working. The ingredients for abandonment bubbled to the surface of her melting pot: years of travel together, a frustrated look, the way she yelled at him. She'd become a creature who functioned nice enough, but occasionally had to fly back to bite the flea stuck to her own hide.

Another factor was that he meant it. Just  _borrowing_. Whatever happened after his plan could happen with his blessing. For the moment, however, the herdier needed the braixen.

In a stroke of luck, Lu didn't walk straight back inside like she ought to. "Why?" She asked.

"Because."

"Tobi was right about you being a meathead..." she started to think hard. Allworthy let the comment pass. It was unlikely she meant it the way Tobi did. "I'd like to hear about your problem."

"You like to meet things head-on," he said. That dainty braixen had too many layers for the fist-and-spikes Wayfarer. An opportunity to fix a problem the tried and true way peaked her interest.

"Yes! If you tell me what's wrong, I might be able to help."

Allworthy pretended to concede. "Oh, fine. I need Tobi in order to arrange a visit with the Bonecrusher. Alone, I stand no chance – he'd command me to get back on the trail to Sunstarch." That was the truth. Then he saw her eyes. A hint of understanding shone in them. Maybe it would be fine to lay it out… "I'm going to kill that son of a bitch. I won't let that monster ride along on my conscience. No one's going to blame me for him roaming about."

That changed her reaction a bit. The very tip of the sun broke out from the horizon. In a surreal way, the way the snow glimmered and Lu's fur turned orange, Allworthy predicted a high sun come noon. "You… you want to pretend to turn Tobi in, then kill the Bonecrusher? But he has a troop and Girrup, and Tobi will still be captured after your trick. You haven't thought this through." She sat down in the snow. "

"It's thought through on my part. You'd need to figure out the 'getting him back' part."

Despite their situation, Lu laughed. "You remind me of Paws. My dad."

Allworthy smiled. "Heck. Do I?" He took it as a complement, which made the lucario wiggle. The thought of her dad was fresh on her mind. "So what do you say? Want to work with-"

"No way. I would never put Tobi in that spot."

Just a  _yes_. It would save them so much trouble.

"Oh, but you'd be doing me a huge favor," he said.

"It hurts, but I can't do it."

He wanted to warn her somehow. This crusade of his, though, took precedent over this Wayfarer's future.

Then he let out his secret chip: "when was the last time Tobi did a favor for you?"

Right away, it struck her hard. "W-What? Tons of times. Millions-billions, really. He makes me laugh, and helps me set up camp, cooking is a breeze when he's around..."

"None of those are real favors," he said for her. "Not like the favors you've given him. Lesson to me, Lu. There's a certain thing, a certain trait, that separates you from Punishers like me and Atlasans like Tobi. You are a helper. A very nice helper."

"A helper," she repeated. "Yeah."

"But sometimes a help needs a bit of help themselves. And when your best friend refuses to do anything for you after two years of schlepping him about Orchidia… why, I'd say that's unfair."

Lu's ears perked. She thought herself escaped from the dangerous line of reasoning. "He's troubled! He can't pay me back just yet."

"That's a lie and you know it." Lu stood up, shocked. This would go down in her mind as the first time an authority figure led her astray. It had to feel like Paws led her into a rosebush. "What does Lu want that is solely for herself?"

This embarrassed her. The child in Lu came out – she was still so young. "N-No. I can't tell you."

"Yes you can."

"No!"

"You won't tell me because you know he could help!"

"Stop it! I can't do that to him."

"Why not?" He said it again, slow: "Why… not?"

She closed in on him, her fangs showing as she hissed the answer.

"Because I want children." Allworthy's eyes widened with sincere surprise. That was the desire of the great Wayfarer: to settle down somewhere and raise a kid. Thinking about her dream made the lucario grin, a strong deterrent to the tense conservation. "I wanted to adopt since I became a newbody. I want to teach a child how to hunt, but we wouldn't move from place to place. We would stay in a big house so my child can make a ton of friends. I'd h-hug all my children every day. I'd pack them a lunch before they set out. As for my Wayfarer or other duties, I'd do them all fast so I can get home quicker." She sniffled. The thought of wanting it mingling with knowing she couldn't have it, felt as if her kids had died. Allworthy could tell she already loved the children she didn't have.

He managed to nod to her. This was awful. He had to lock down on his own path. What was a ruined live to a thousand crushed bones? "You're young. Still, I think you know… Tobi can help with that."

No answer.

"Ask him – no,  _insist_ that he pay you back for helping him."

"Never," she tried. One last try to slip out. Now that she reached this point, there was no going back. She couldn't return to that schoolroom and pretend like Tobi was ever going to pay her back.

"I bet he loves you. Go get 'em, Lu."

The lucario nodded like a machine. She passed by the commander, muttering her thanks for the talk, and then she went inside to ask a favor from Tobi.

Nasfereet startled Allworthy – when he turned to make sure Lu went inside, the weavile was waiting at the side of the classroom. He had been so focused on twisting the Wayfarer, he never noticed the intrustion. Nasfereet refused to meet eyes. The herdier recovered quick from the scare.

"Well, you heard that talk!" He said. "Want to turn me in? Want to warn the Bonecrusher? Come on, tell me what you're thinking so I know what to deal with."

"You are sickening," Nasfereet answered. He kicked off from the wall and walked away. "You've shown me fully well what you are willing to do to see your plans through… I'm not equipped to stop you. I'll go check the perimeter. I don't want to see where this goes." He turned back for one more comment: "and you wonder why your subordinate became such a monster. Maybe it's the way you manipulate us, perhaps?"

Before Allworthy could chase the bastard down and pulverize him, yelling came from inside the schoolhouse. The commander ran in to check his handiwork.

"Lu, what the hell?!" Tobi shot up, his broken leg taking second place to putting some distance between him and Lu. He lunged for a desk and wheeled it into the gap.

"I just realized that you're never going to repay me. And you  _owe_ me, Tobi!"

The braixen knew it was true. His ears flopped down and his retreat became less violent. "N-Not like that, though. I don't want to – I c-can't."

"What's so hard about it?!"

Allworthy's troop watched in suppressed horror. The outburst made their game of teacher seem all the more unstable.

"Maga's out there, these Punishers say so. He might be just ahead! Lu –  _Lu!_ " The Wayfarer knocked the desk out of the way and grabbed him by the arm. He yelped, slinking down with his tail in between his legs. "Stop it…"

"No sass now, huh? For the last two years I've saved you from every time your impulses landed us in trouble." She whined, desperate to get past this hurdle. "Just do this for me."

Suddenly, a fierce look took over the braixen. Allworthy took a step back; he'd seen that same fire in the eyes of Duke Willard. "I want Maga."

"I want you."

"Well you... can't have me!"

In the next moment, things came crashing down in a confusing storm of fire and splinters. The troop shouted out checks to each other, each of them scrambling out of the wreckage of the schoolhouse. Basil made sure to pick up Heetz, who was busy sleeping off the charm, out of the way.

All this time, the Punishers had assumed that, after taking out Lu, Tobi would surrender himself. The braixen had a bite all his own. Lu stood up from the crashed spot. She calmly patted out bits of wood and cinder, which fell from her pelt in droves – the damage wasn't large, but the fact that Tobi managed to knock her down impressed the herdier. He wasn't the pampered prince he thought. Tobi had his paw extended out with smoke leaving his claws, all his weight placed on his good leg.

Then he realized what he had done. "Lu," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I made a promise to myself, though. If.. if I was free to make that decision, you'd be my first choice. I love you. Just… never like that."

Surprisingly, the slap on the wrist had calmed her. "I… love you too. And I understand now, I was out of line. And I know why." She turned to Allworthy. "I gave you an honest answer to your request, and you tried to pit us against each other. That's so naughty."

Things would destruct quickly now, and Allworthy racked his brain for an answer. Was there anything that would make this lucario give up Tobi?

Then it came: a beautiful, beautiful sandshrew and his desire to sweep the leg out from any Atlasan.

"Lu, do not forgive this liar." He brought up Tobi's bag and a folded slip of paper. "Missan used to get into arguments with Aiyee over a 'perfect stranger'. From the details I picked out in those times, I gathered the gist of what happened. Missan was swept away by this stranger and gave away your message to his safekeeping – instead of sending it, he shoved it into the very bottom of his bag. Well, I supposed that Tobi is more than handsome enough for Missan to claim him 'perfect'. And look at what I found in a secret compartment of his bag." He showed her the aged paper again.

Lu's ears flicked. "Oh. I made him that little flap. That slip holds meeting places in case we get separated."

"Maybe you should read it."

Lu took it from the Roaken's claw and read, line by line:

_To Lu (or should I proudly announce, Lugum!),_

_How's it been going with that prince of yours? I hope you are done helping him, because the Wayfarers need you in Roake as soon as possible. It makes me nervous to be so revealing in a letter that might be stolen away, but your importance trumps the risk, and there are things you ought to know._

_First, some good news: we've managed to set up a feasible plan to liberate Roake from the Punishers. The island has the least amount of Atlasan influence – leave it to Atlas to underestimate the bookworms across their waters! When we follow through with this liberation, and do away with the sacrifice system in place, we will be on a time limit before Disasters wipe Roake off the map – we need you to teach to us what you did to the Whitestone Punishment. I know it's an uncomfortable part of your life to talk about, but this is our one chance to prove to Pokéterra that there is another way. You'd finally get to help on the scale you deserve._

_Second. Lu… do you remember Duke Brazen? He was our member on the inside while we were still in Orchidia, a traitor to Atlas long before even that. Upon securing a spot in Roake's politics, he told me his reasoning for becoming so active in our own efforts to overthrow Atlas. He's your father. By blood, Lu._

_That day I found you in the forest with your nickname clutched in your paws, he was but a few steps ahead, on a hunt for a way to secure the position of a Duke in Orchidia. Your mother was just a minute's walk into the forest, dead due to complications in childbirth. It baffles me that that, in the end, you became involved regardless in this fight in spite of his efforts to give you an easy life. He says your full name is Lugum, and that if your mother could see you throw a hook she'd be so proud._

_I want to speak with you again, and soon. Even Fab mentions you from time to time. Don't let that business with her sister keep you away; you belong in Roake, Lu, with us. Toss that braixen and get on the next ship here._

_Best of luck,_

_Paws._

"...Tobi?" Lu asked. "This was in your bag the whole time."

The braixen damned himself by looking away. "I'm sorry."

"Did you forget to give it to me?"

"No. I needed you."

"T-Then you didn't give it to me on purpose?"

"That's the case. Yeah." His voice had become throaty and dead. 'I couldn't stand the thought of you leaving me. You kept me wanting to live."

Lu stepped out of her spot, putting the smoldering classroom back into motion. She closed the gap between them, and the braixen refused to move a muscle. Even when the intensity of her stare threatened to knock the younger members of the troop of their feet. The wood burnt by Tobi's attack was dominated by the same scent of a stronger strength – Lu's stolthet swept away everyone's senses.

She took Tobi into a hug. Ignoring her provocations earlier, he went into it with all of his trust. They stayed there, hung up in time. The sun began to show itself in the holes punched into the walls.

"Lu, I will be honest with you from now on," Tobi said. "No more bad Tobi. Just good. I promise, Lu."

Lu was gnashing her teeth together with such strength, her gums began to bleed. She said something to him just before breaking off their embrace.

"My name is Lugum."

Tobi froze.

Lugum turned to Allworthy. "He's all yours."

" _Lu?"_  Tobi looked around. No one questioned the lucario's will; Basil came forward and wrapped herself around the prince. He reached out for his guardian, claws out. The shock hit quick and heavy. He wailed as Lugum refused to pay attention to his capture. "Lu, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

"Sobre and I need supplies," Lugum said. "We have a journey ahead of us-"

" _Lu, don't make me go back to Willard!"_ Tobi broke free of Basil's grip and fell forward. Even then, Lugum paid no heed to the creature wrapped around her leg. "He'll break me."

"Supplies," she said again, more insistent. She kicked off the Sent and stepped forward.

Allworthy turned back and barked orders. "Damn it, whip something up before she changes her mind!" His troop went into a flurry, packing everything they could risk giving up. Basil picked out some of the medicine from Nasfereet's bag.

"Is this okay?" She asked. Everyone had to speak up over the braixen throwing a fit.

"Basil, that's the salve for lashings – screw it, toss it in. Just hurry up!"

In a minute, they had gathered a respectable traveling kit. Food, salves, and camping equipment. Sobre, who had stayed silent in the wake of his choice to reveal the letter, took it off of Frig's paws. He looked up to make sure Lugum was ready to go. She nodded back and headed for the door.

Before she exited, Tobi had one last chance to speak with her.

"Lugum," he howled, trying her new name. The taste of it made him choke on a sob. "I love you."

"I know," she replied. "I love you too." There was no fixing him. No one could be expected to fix such a ruined creature.

She left.

Allworthy did it. He recaptured the prince and outsmarted his Wayfarer guardian. Was  _outsmart_  the right word? No. Any Sent could have pressed the opportunity. The thing that made him special was the motivation to do it. No one in the troop felt like celebrating their victory.

Tobi coiled in on himself. He became catatonic as his mind tried to process the mistake he made. If he had just agreed to Lugum's request, she would still be in the classroom. Instead he tried to keep a promise… one he had already broken.

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

_One year ago_

"Bah, you rushed all the way here," Tobi said, giving a playful flick of his tail. The tip brushed the kadabra's nose. She drew back, eyes locked on the tail. "Ticklish, huh?" He tried to brush her again, but Missan caught his tail. "Hey."

"I need to bring it directly to her. These games are a distraction."

For a first-timer to the great city of Treasus, Missan chose one of the nicer inns on the outskirts. Lu had brought him back to Treasus in order to revisit some of the spots he used to perform while Duke Willard was off on business, to see if it sparked his will to dance again. It didn't, but something came out of it: Missan spotted Lu and him strolling down a bridge in the Art Ward. If she had been a second quicker, Tobi wouldn't have been able to check her out alone.

Now he knew. She wanted to tear Lu away. That wouldn't be happening. The kadabra might be sharp-witted, and dedicated beyond belief, but Tobi had spent years opening up vicious Atlasan commanders with his dances. One lone Roaken in a strange place? Child's play.

"Of course," he whispered, coming in close. Missan tried to pull back, but the braixen wrapped an arm around her. "You must be tense, traveling under the Punishers' noses."

"Quit it!" She shouted. Tobi hoped the noise wouldn't bleed through the inn's paper walls. "I won't be wooed by a prince of Atlas. Even if you travel with Lugum, I trust you about as far as I can throw you."

He laughed. "Yes you will. Who are you kidding? You can throw me so far. Feel how light I am..." Tobi brushed up against Missan's neck. She growled and pushed back, then all at once let the fox have his hug. "Feel my coat. Aren't I the softest? I bet you came here for adventure. Take a chance on me."

The Roaken's wits came crumbling down. "Even if I did trust you, I see no reason why being… involved with you means I can't see Lu."

"Lu would say this is counter-productive to my 'recovery'. This is sorta forbidden on my end, too..."

Forbidden. Prince. Soft. Adventurous. Arguments swirled around in Missan's head. Her calculative nature turned on her like a hungry animal.

"Let me show you the Art Ward again," he said. "We can sneak into a theater. I'll dance for you. You're well-studied, I bet you know just how well this champion of Entei can move. When I show you my flames, they'll flicker on the back of your lids for weeks. It will be a well you can tap from on your return to your outpost, a well of warmth, a well that might never run dry if you keep your eyes peeled for the whole dance. Am I bragging? Maybe. Or maybe I really can kill your doubts. Your fear. This world will make sense when you recall what I gave to you. You will never need to be afraid again."

Missan lifted up the letter with a shaky arm. "I cannot resist you. But it  _has_  to get to her. Y-You promise?"

He snatched it from her and stuffed it into the secret compartment of his satchel. To the kadabra, it must have seemed like he was concealing it. He was, in a way. He took her arm and grinned.

"Attagirl. Let's go, I know the perfect café we can get lunch at..."

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

Lugum kept all her senses directed on the journey ahead. Her mind was a chaotic battle of excuses, angry thoughts, sadness, and an inkling of concern for her future. Sobrewright walked by her side, too afraid of being blamed for his actions to speak.

Regardless, he swallowed his nervousness to check on the Wayfarer. "Hey. I beg you, forgive my intrusion into your personal relationships."

"You made sure the truth came out," Lugum said. "No one can fault you for that."

"Now that you are rid of that influence, you will be free to pursue a great cause. Try to imagine that life of one to the life of thousands of Roaken. I swear, you will be given the utmost respect and honesty by our forces. You are a hero to us, that fact is irrefutable. And I swear on my life to keep your request to him a secret."

He spoke too much – that last promise was a misstep. Lugum whirled around on him, teeth bared.

"What's wrong with asking a friend for something?!"

"N-Nothing, I meant for the sake of privacy."

"You ought to be more direct," Lugum growled. "It helps others understand you better."

The sandshrew stopped and stood firm. "Fine. I am glad that corrupting influence is going off to suffer. Lugum, it was not normal for you to let yourself be abused by that monster!'

 _Normal_. Theword was the catalyst her puzzled mind needed.  _It's not normal for you to be so eager to throw years of your life away on a child you just met._ Paw's words rung in her head.  _Normal. It's not normal-_

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

_Five years ago_

"Do you have a death wish or something? Get the hell out of our way!" The politoed from the beach shot his tongue out at her, the thick end threatened to bash Lu's newbody skull in.

Years of hunting had honed her instinct. She sprung out, getting a grip on the tongue. With a decisive twist, she brought the Novan's face into the stone road. The resounding  _crack_  caused the other rebels to take steps away from the bakery. One down, scores to go. If even one broke into the bakery where Fab's children were hiding, Lu would lose everything.

But she was reaching the end of her rope. The coming Disaster gave the common rebels, otherwise untrained, a burst of feral strength. Every one that gathered the fury to close in managed to score a hit, one way or another. That politoed had managed to strike her once with that tongue. She spat out blood and put her paws up, wishing she had waited a few weeks to turn in her riolu form. Her stronger body brought inexperience.

A new competitor rose from the crowd. A gurdurr using a pillar taken from a nearby building. The white stone shone in the sickening, sticky heat of the sun. "Hello, lass! Once I'm done with your skulls, those future Punishers are gonna be like squashing grapes. One pissant won't keep me from saving the world!" The others in the crowd roared their approval.

Fab came up to the window of the sealed bakery. "Lu. You need to run. I can try to convince them. You look ready to topple over."

Lu shook her head. "Two gurdurr? That's… that's nothing."

"There's one."

"See? Just keep the hope up!" Lu charged the gurdurr.

Right away, that pillar of his went straight at her stomach. She caught the blow, moving up with it to reduce the damage, and slammed her paws into each side of the rebel's head. The thunderous clap disoriented the gurdurr, which opened him up for a ferocious uppercut. Both him and Lu fell to the ground. Only the latter managed to get back on her feet.

That was all she could take. Her body started to let her down after an hour of nonstop fighting. Worst of all, the rebels moved the unconscious rebels out of the way. Had she even made a dent? She lost her balance and sat down, panting.

"Give me a moment," she breathed. "O-One moment is all I need."

The Sents at the front of the line started to close in. "No," one of them said. Laughter came up through the ranks.

Just before the next wave could sweep over her, Fab exploded through the bakery window. The sudden entrance forced a change of priorities in the maddened creatures.

"There's the bitch!"

"Slaughter the greedy thing and her brood!"

"Get 'em both, gut em."

"I won't let you touch her!" Fab shouted. Energy began to emanate from her body. The momentous power caused the masses to thin. "I trained in secret for this occasion. You've forced this out, remember that!"

A powerful burst of psychic energy eviscerated the front row of rebels. They screamed, clutching bruises and cuts made by the psychic bomb. Before they could recover, Fab did it again. And again. Talent and willpower mixed together to make the den mother a veritable opponent.

In response, some of the mob poured into the other side of the street.

Fab growled. "I can't cover both sides. Take my children and go through the other exit, Lu."

Lu got up, a smile on her face. "I can handle that side."

"They pummeled you for an hour. Your injuries-"

"Don't even feel them. How could I, with these risks?" Fab gaped at the lucario. In just a few minutes, she seemed ready for more. "I promised you – even if a Disaster strikes, I won't surrender!"

Another hour of fighting ensued in a haze of blood and fury. Lu noticed replacements in the crowd. And when the roups parted just the right way after another psychic attack, she saw centers of recovery. The entire force of the mob had gathered on top of them; they gave up chasing Atlasans and Punishers in order to take care of this one hiccup. Lu and Fab did their best to stay strong against the torrent. All the while, the rage of the Disaster built to new heights, giving the frenzied Sents even more power.

"Lu," Fab called. "One's on me!"

Lu twisted from her own opponent and slammed the bibarel into the ground with a hammer kick.

The lucario grunted. "We have to start killing them."

"No!" Fab shouted back. "They know not what they're doing, at this point. That awful energy is pushing them forward."

They couldn't win, Lu realized. Two against a hundred was impossible, even with the layout of the alley assisting them. She racked her brains for a solution – none came. They had to permanently remove threats.

Lu propped up the bibarel and aimed a spike at the Sent's throat. A glimmer of recognition shone in his eyes.

"Lu, please!"

"I won't let those children die in his stead," she replied.

Right before she followed through, a whistle carried on the wind. The mob fell silent – that was a hunter's command.  _Hold off._

Suddenly, a few of the Novans popped into the air. The next moment they had been slammed into the ground, and a new wave of helpless Sents prepared for the same thing. Lu watched on in amazement. Paws, who she knew as a hunter, weaved through the crowds after an entirely different kind of prey.

The pidgeot was untouchable, even in the midst of scores of claws and fangs. Gusts of wind slammed rebels into the close surface, wall, floor, or roof. After crumbling the front of Fab's orphanage with the bodies of his victims, Paws came in front of his daughter. He drew his wing out in protection.

"F-Forget this," one of the rebels screamed. "Fall back, fight on in another place!"

And like that, Paws had quelled the masses. Or, at least, sent them away. Fab ran inside to check on her children. They were crying – the corpse of the baker, the one who made the delicious mango pizza, left a smell that rose past the counter.

Paws turned to look at Lu. The lucario smiled, so proud to see the pidgeot made the right choice.

Then he slapped her with that protective wing.

"If you  _ever_  run off like that again," he roared, "I'll leave you to 'em!" Lu looked down, ashamed by her father's disappointment. "I'd fought enough in the arenas. Damn it, Lu! Being a cook requires I keep myself free of the blood of any Sent. Our business will take a hit."

Fab came out, scowling. "Lu saved my children, Paws. She's a hero."

"Don't you dare call me Paws. You may use Hellingly – and I couldn't give two shits about how she saved your profits."

"...Excuse me?" Fab asked.

"Their sentencing proved wrong, but the accusation stands true: I myself never met a den mother without some profit in mind."

"Paws, she loves them. I can tell."

"You couldn't tell your business from a heap of gold. Lu, like I told you – when you grow up in our world… and it leads you to think that taking such a burden is the way to go… it's insanity."

Fab ran over to the pidgeot. She stood, ready to fight. "Fuck right off with your talk of sensible behavior." Paws drew back, stunned

"If the 'right move' is to let these kids suffer, or die… then let me be insane! I agreed to be a den mother because I grew tired of the norm. I tried to look out just for myself, like my father taught me. I tried to give when it was due and nowhere else. B-But I can't sit idly by while my heart breaks. If that greed is what it takes to be a Sent, then I humbly refuse, and would give all I have to make you believe it. And Lu feels the same, I bet you my life she does."

Paws gave his adopted daughter a good, hard look. Lu panted as she rose to her feet, ready to help escort the kids out of Whitestone.

The pidgeot gave a weak scoff. "Whatever… grab your kids. I'll scout from the air and led you out of town." Fab managed a nod, the nicest she could be at that point. "When we're out, stay the hell away from my daughter."

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

"...Lugum? Lugum, please, you're scaring me."

The lucario wanted to tear her head right off. She wrapped her arms around her eyes as they walked. "I've made a mistake," she whispered. "No matter how painful the challenge, I should have refused to give up. What good am I to anyone if I become just another Sent?"

"What do you mean? He deserved that treatment."

Suddenly, as if receiving a second wind, Lu let her arms drop. A smile shone on her face. "Oh, he deserved a beating! But it ought to be from me. Once we reach your outpost, Sobre, I'll need a moment. I need to go grab him."

"Unbelievable. You would give him more chances? I expected you to be much smarter than that. This is… sort of disappointing."

"Too bad I'm not trying to please you, then. I'm here to make Pokéterra a better place. And if I can't go beyond the norm for my best friend… then I will have to refuse Paws's invitation."

"I cannot believe what I am hearing. You must be charmed-"

"Hello?" A young voice cried. Lu caught on to the scent of blood and the stench of latent energy. She put the sandshrew behind her, paws raised up.

A charmander came out behind a mound of snow, covered in blood. He wore no expression on his face, as if ignorant to his own condition.

"Please," Bleak said. "There's an injured mienshao with me. I can't carry him alone."

Sobrewright forgot all about his disappointment. "That's… that's the spirit welder. What..."

Lu took a look at the other side of the mound. The mienshao was breathing heavily, lash-marks on his back. Left open, he wouldn't stand a chance. The corpse of a Punisher had been laid out nearby – less questions seemed better in this situation.

Adversity brought out the strangest consequences. Lugum rustled through the bag the Punishers gave her.

Lu rolled the healing salve for lashes in her paw.

"I was wondering why they threw this in," she said.


	14. Maga's Dance, part three, High Noon - Start

Maga woke up to surprised shouts, followed by the crashes of a panicked Sent in a small space. But what startled him most wasn't that ruckus. Instead, he marveled at the sound of his own breathing. Somehow, someway, the mienshao dragged his injured self all the way from Sunstarch to the middle of the continent. He hadn't been alone for the most the last sprint, though that couldn't bog his elation: life threw all it had at him, and he survived. He felt his strength returning to him in small ebbs.

He also felt a stupefying soreness. Maga stopped trying to take in his surroundings and fell back, too battered to seize control of the situation. Whatever saved him now held the power to whisk him over. Spare him, kill him – Maga gritted his teeth. That wouldn't do. Now that he once again lived on his own merit, he was free to solve some of his overdue problems. In this world that tried to destroy him, and surrounded by enemies who hated him, Maga yearned to find the few things maybe left on his side.

Once again, his muscles tensed. Slowly, an inch at a time, the mienshao stood up. Pink petals scattered around the tent's flap caught his eye. It occurred to him that those weren't petals to a flower. Nope. These were cherry blossoms.

The mienshao hobbled into the corner in a rush. Either that child, Bleak, or a roving sentry had taken him to one of the last places on Pokéterra he wanted to visit: Cherry Blossom Outpost, home to Roaken rebels. Well, if they wanted a piece of him for ransom or glory, they could try it.

Maga slowed his hoarse breathing. Voices spoke to each other outside the tent.

"I-I could not comprehend what was in front of me!" The first cried. "When we first discovered him in the snow… I expected much less movement at this point. I expected him to be dead."

"The rumors trickling down from Sunstarch about this prince are disconcerting," another said. "At best. We need a constant rotation of guards on him, now.

"We don't have the numbers. You alone, Sobrewright, survive the group we sent out to assist Bleak in his welding. And our friends who were patrolling last night... they haven't reported in."

"Wanna say that louder? I'm sure  _he_  enjoys all that information!" The second Roaken, Sobrewright, sighed - a loud, sad noise. "Sorry. I… I just do not know what to say to I.E. Missan..."

"Whazzat?" That must be I.E. Maga wondered if this was that kadabra's second-in-command. "What did I say? No more talk about her – if she wants to take the scenic route back, when we're being surrounded by Punishers, more power to her. Hope she jots down how cowardly she is, you know?"

Sobrewright let out a weak chuckle. "I bet she wants to be here. It will be hard to infiltrate our own camp at this point; Atlas's net about this outpost has become tighter in the last hour. It will be time to brainstorm a way to escape, soon."

Maga let out a few heaving wheezes that he meant as laughs. They were lying to their new commander!" No one gave him the mercy of falsehoods when he was presiding over Roake. The group of Roaken fell back as the mienshao emerged from the tent, . The two watching him hadn't thought of the possibility. Sobrewright saw that malicious grin, and guessed at his intent.

The sandshrew reached out to him. "No, please do not-"

"Your commander, Missan, is dead," Maga spat.

I.E, a scraggly mightyena, turned towards the sound of his voice. "Is that the prince?" He asked.

The first voice he heard, the one prone to screaming, belonged to a krookodile. All in all, these Roaken rebels looked like a bunch of scrawny kids to the mienshao. "Aye," the krookodile said. "That's him."

"Maga, you are under my outpost's care. It would help you to shut up and quit lying," I.E growled. "Sobre himself confirmed that Missan is alive. If you want to argue why I should trust you more-"

"Ha!" Maga shouted. During the mightyena's lecture, Maga took a few furtive steps to the right. The two subordinates choked on their warnings, but said nothing as their commander talked down to a tent. "You are blind?" The Roaken flinched at the question. "And they sent you here?!" Cherry Blossom Outpost took in all of the sun and none of the snow, swapping out the dead limbs of winter for clouds of pink blossoms. The place was gorgeous beyond imagination, and I.E couldn't even see it.

"I could see when I came here. Your lot betrayed my trust and blinded me."

"I remember that book you mentioned," Maga said, almost conversational. "She begged me to take it. I ended up kicking her book into the snow. I left her unburied next to that brown, leather-"

I.E turned to be unnaturally quick. In a moment the blind mightyena had the Atlasan pinned by the neck. "How does he know?" He shouted through the mienshao's coarse fur. "How does he know about Missan's journal?!" Maga realized that, if his goal was to put old problems to rest, provoking Sents into killing him boded ill for his chances. But these Sents were a part of that small island nation. The ones who couldn't even spare him a dishonorable defeat by insurrection. No fair fights. No honor. It was their fault he suffered at all.

The krookodile ran over to try and peel I.E away. An explosive burst of dark energy sent him tumbling away. "S-Sobrewright," the mightyena cried. "Did she  _really_  survive?"

"I think you know the answer," Bleak said. The new commander eased up on Maga's neck and froze.

Maga pushed up to get a better look at the charmander who saved his life. He had entered somewhere from the center of the outpost, where the bulk of rebels still alive prepared to flee. Next to him was a lucario – tall, lean, and especially upset with him. As for Bleak… Maga couldn't tell. It was as if all the emotion the child had, albeit subdued when it came, disappeared in its entirety. The was nothing left in his eyes. No twitching of his jaw. Feelings of concern took over the ire he felt towards the Roaken. What did Bleak do to secure his survival?

Lu walked up and put a paw on I.E's back. "I'm sorry," she said.

The mightyena withdrew. "Forgive me. As… as our commander now, I can't be ruled by my emotions." His first measure: to ensure that the enemy didn't see him cry. "I need to check on our preparations. Lu. We will discuss your proposal later, I h-hope?"

The lucario gave him a reassuring nod. "Of course. I'll be right here."

"W-w-w..." he took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. Everyone knew that Maga's brutal reveal had crushed the mightyena. It was but a matter of waiting to see if he rebounded. If not, leadership would need to fall further down the chain. "Will you tell me what she wrote about me?" He asked. "I never got the chance."

"Go get some rest, I.E. You two should help."

Sobrewright wondered what Lu wanted with the other prince. She already promised to go back for the other one, going so far as to try and rope the rebels at the outpost into rescuing an Atlasan,  _from_ Atlasans. As he helped his commander back to his quarters, he prayed that the lucario found her famous wit. And soon.

Lu plucked the injured Sent out of the dust and carried him back into the tent. Bleak followed, quiet as ever. "That wasn't nice," she said, laying him down onto a bed made of strewn hay. "Why would you tell him that?"

"They sentenced me to death when they shamed me," Maga replied. "They deposed me and refused to give me a chance to fight for my spot. They need to be denied their own chance at dignity. I wanted to make those bastards watch as their commander wailed in view of everyone."

"That's a waste of time, sorta. In my opinion."

"Mine too," Bleak interjected. His voice was eerily monotone.

"Wow. Twice the opinions for me to  _not_  care about!" Maga laid back, chuckling to himself.

"I saved you so you could turn yourself around," the charmander said.

Maga smiled. "Interesting."

"I killed my first Sent for you."

"Hah!  _First_ Sent. You planning on more?"

"I gave up parts of me reviving you." The child sat down, knowing that even this wouldn't sway the obstinate creature. "Not even sure what. Just… everything feels off in my head."

Maga turned his head to the side. "Well… no one asked you to."

The charmander shot up and turned away. If he could still emote, he would've been enraged, betrayed, disappointed. "Okay. You really did lose your mind last night. There's nothing I can do to save that, or convince you to save yourself."

Instead of giving up as well, the lucario grinned. "Let him be a jerk. I just won't let him speak to Tobi."

In an instant, Maga was sitting up, eyes locked on the lucario. "What kind of joke is this?"

"No joke. Would a joker know that Tobi licks his chops when he's about to show off? Or that he's pretty stinky when it comes to handling kids? And he likes zumba music because you like it."

That was true. Tobi did lick his chops, Tobi  _despised_  kids, Tobi stole a music player once that played 'zumba' – this lucario knew Tobi! "A-Arceus," Maga praised, unable to help the expression. "Where is he? When can I see him?"

"He and I have been trailing you, funnily enough. There was a hiccup that led to him getting captured, so I need to – oops!"

"What capture?  _Tell me!_ "

"You seem super focused on revenge, so I'll leave you to it. Bye!"

A shaky paw clutched her leg as she turned to leave. "W-Wait, I'm begging you!" Tobi was alive – he wasn't even sure of that fact, until this lucario laid it all out in this tent. With the manifestation of his will to live now concrete, his urge to claw at the Roaken dissipated into the fragrant air of the outpost. In fact, he began to lose his mind in guilt. "Tell the mightyena I'm sorry! I will fight for them. I will swear fealty," He shouted. "B-Bleak - I'll do anything to repay you, whatever change you wanted out of me consider it made. A-Anything for anyone, I just want to see Tobi..."

For a horrifying moment, Lu looked content to leave him to his mistake. Then she got serious. "Look how reasonable you became once I brought him up. You both mean a lot to each other." The mienshao nodded furiously. "Well. I  _guess_  I can allow you to see him.  _If_  you help me help these rebels. Bleak," she said, addressing the welder, "if you worked on him, would he be in fighting shape by late afternoon?"

"With the right supplies it's easy," he answered. "Although he'll be lacking until his body catches up. To recover from what he experienced might take-"

"Pointless semantics!" Maga cried. "Just get me into fighting shape."

"What's the magic word?" The kid asked.

"Patch me up or I'll… wait patiently right here. Please, may I have my healing sooner than later?" That infernal lucario giggled at the gag in his maw. Who was she? How did she know Tobi?

None of it mattered. He would have Tobi back. Back where he could keep him safe. Back where the dancer could finally do what he meant to years ago: make Maga understand.

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

_Two years ago_

_Fire._  The culmination of their emotion. Their desire to see peace between Atlas and Orchidia, to proclaim the union of entei and suicune, went into the flickers, billows and blasts of the fire they shared.

Once again, Tobi sent out a bolt from the end of his stick. Maga caught it with a deft swipe. Its heat ran down his tassel until it reach the tip. Now, it had to be now. The mienshao let out a roar as he arched his back, entered a spin, and slammed the flame into the ground. Embers burst from the floor as if he slapped his paw against water. The braixen next to him connected each ember with a swing of his wand.

A fiery fence formed in front of him. Now was the last act of their hardest routine. The furthest they reached after weeks of practice. Maga pushed into the fence. Make it. They had so little time before they were expected to achieve it on the stage. Under Willard's care, every new routine seemed like a race. They never faltered before, and didn't plan to start now.

He spun, breaking up the links and spooling the fire onto his tassels. He went faster, faster, till the room was a blur and Tobi's words of encouragement mixed together.

Then he stopped. The fire melted away into the air.

"Too weak," he said, sitting down for some much-needed rest.

"Aw!" Tobi plopped down as well, exhausted. "What do you think it is? Is my fire too weak, are you not spinning fast enough? We have no time to figure it out. Drat! If only there was a faster way." Maga's ears flicked dismissively. He knew what the braixen was leading towards.

"It must be a combination of the two. Let's both try our hardest."

"Ooh… so diplomatic." Tobi gave him a jeering grin. "At this point, I think it's shortcut time. Just my opinion."

"Your opinion hasn't changed for weeks. You and your damned shortcut should focus on a fiercer flame."

"Why are you so against it?"

Maga knew this technique. The  _rehash everything until my pal gets curious_ , strategy. It seemed like all the braixen's rhetoric relied on insistence. And innocent glances. "Again, Duke Willard forbid shortcuts. In battle or dance, there is no replacement for raw practice. The moment we overstep our abilities with some shortcut, we'll be chained to it. Can you shortcut be relied on as surely as our bodies?"

Tobi got up. He brushed himself off, taking in a ragged sigh. "It's not like that – in a way, it's just being honest with ourselves. Willard set us on one leg the moment we all met." This was new; before, the braixen relented the moment Maga asked for more details. After weeks of this argument on repeat, Tobi decided to let the cat out of the bag.

"What are you doing?" Maga hissed. "He is our father. And father has provided everything for us. Classes, venues, money, relationships, none of which would be so present if we were still scraping the countryside for jobs. He wouldn't dare set us back."

"That entei-suicune story, Maga. About how we came together in order to make peace. It's baloney."

Maga whipped around, making sure the room was empty. "How dare you?!" He growled, after making sure it was safe to address that heresy.

All or nothing – Tobi laid it out for his dancing partner. "Remember when you got into that huge argument with my… with Tempranillo? You kept silent for a whole month, you were so angry."

"Sure. He refused to call me his son. Even when we left for Treasus, he refused." The thought was a sour note to his great luck. Tempranillo, for all the heights the mienshao reached, never called him a son. For a while, the fact dominated Maga's life. Till Tempranillo laid him flat on his back, wand pointed at his throat, and told him it would never happen through bared teeth. The ordeal made him gnash his fangs together.

Tobi smiled. "It's fresh on my mind. Sorta 'cause he did it on my request."

Maga gaped. The idea of it drove a deep wound in him. "You… do you… do you not like me as a dancing partner? Do you not want me as a brother?"

"Never! Wait. Yes. If you were my brother, Maga, I'd cry my eyes out over it every night. Never get over it. Never get passed it."

"How dare you. After all we've done-"

" _Shut up_." Tobi came close, wrapping the mienshao up in a hug. Maga pushed for a split second, then let his shock go. It wasn't the first time Tobi hugged him. The other times, however, came about in excitement – both him and his father were very physical Sents. This time, this time… was the first the braixen came close in silence. The first he held… Maga felt awkward at first, an urge told him to humbly ask that Tobi step away. Then it came: that feeling. The one shared at his sister's totem, after a good laugh, years ago – he thought it lost, moved into the power of their dances!

"Tobi, is this your shortcut?" Maga asked. "I have no idea how you're doing it, but father will be proud! You sparked again or fervor for peace! L-Let's try the move, now." He tried to pull away. Tobi's arms turned into a ring of steel. "Tobi? We need to practice."

"Atlasans and Orchidians can disembowel each other in the streets for all I care," Tobi whispered. He laid his head against Maga's chest. "It was never about that. Willard lied that day. This isn't larger than ourselves… it's just us. It's  _our_ dance alone..." the warmth strengthened. Maga worried about what might happen to him if Tobi heated up further. This was not a flame he could carry on his tassels. Though the warmth now… such perfect comfort. "Do you understand?"

The situation made Maga piercingly honest. "No. I'm very confused."

"You sure are." Tobi chuckled. "I promise, Maga: I will help you understand."

" _Hey!"_

Tobi flew off of Maga like the confused Sent was a nasty plague. The chill that came in afterward made the mienshao shiver. Somebody saw their shortcut. For some reason that made Maga concerned; when Gretsky skipped forward, waving to them, that concern started to hurt.

"G-Gretsky," Tobi said, giving a courteous nod.

"Tobi. Maga. Father wanted me to ask if you would like to come down for lunch. You've been working hard for twelve hours now." The zoroark's grin became larger the more Tobi squirmed. Gretsky, the blood-born son of Duke Willard and heir to his empire. Apparently, Tobi and him shared the same species, the fox. Yet the blackest part of Maga's mind, dedicated to awful ideas, suspected that Willard wished the similarities wouldn't end there. He swore that Gretsky behaved more like Tobi every passing day; the wit, the canter, even the shortcomings, nothing Tobi adopted seemed to be unique for long once the zoroark spotted it.

Maga pressed his paws against his stomach and stood tall. An act to cover up the growls – the mienshao would kill for some lunch. "I'm okay," he said.

"Same here," Tobi said. "Thanks."

"What were you doing with Maga? Was that a new move?"

"We don't like to reveal parts of our dance before our performance," the braixen said, too quick.

"What a strange move. You were holding him. Sorta like..." Gretsky mimicked their hug, falling onto the mienshao. "So, Maga – who's better?"

It happened in an instant: Tobi trounced the zoroark for intruding on their practice. The furious braixen tried to use his combat training, which he hadn't particularly liked before, but seemed to love now that the zoroark was his target. After some solid strikes on both ends, Maga pulled Tobi away snapping and snarling. Gretsky fared no better – the two had lost their minds. Maga had not a clue why.

"What's going on up there?" Father called. "You better not be scrapping."

Maga's tail went between his legs. Tobi sobered up.

"Father," Gretsky called back. In his voice, a fake note of fear. "I wanted to hug Maga like Tobi did, and he got super mad at me! Ow..."

Gretsky's chuckle fell on deaf ears.

Tobi looked at Maga. Finality. It entered like a stench coming through the cracks of the training room.

"Promise me," he said. "That you'll let me keep my promise."

"I-"

" _Get down here, now!"_  Willard shouted.

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

"Where?" The Bonecrusher asked. He nodded towards the corpse of the diggersby.

The other two Punishers quaked in fear. By bringing back the body, they admitted to breaking ranks. None of them wanted to bring a message in the middle of the night, nor search for the recipients in the cold. It should have taken one. One Punisher to check on a groaning child. When the two came back from commander Allworthy's camp, they found their third with his throat cut. The Bonecrusher allotted very little time to those who would take shortcuts.

"Commander," one of them said. "We swore it a mere child groaning behind the mound. We suspected it to take but a moment to sort out."

"Then why did you not turn around when a moment passed?"

"B-Because..." because they were frustrated to be out there at all! It all came back to laziness. The first Punisher, a vigoroth, broke down in the face of certain punishment. He traded his excuses for pleas. "Forgive my foolishness, forgive my laziness, forgive my insurrection-  _ahhh!"_  He grabbed on the leg stepping on him and pulled up till his body twisted. " _N-no-oo-o!_ "

 _Crack_.

The Punished laid sobbing in the snow. "Sorry..."

 _Crack_.

The vigororth now worked with one good arm and one good leg. To separate as a group was to divide oneself. The lesson didn't reach the screaming Sent very well.

The second backed away, eyes wide in a sort of special awe. As two younger members of his force, it wouldn't be long before that lethal power became a spell to them. A spell that instilled blood-lust in all those who stopped resisting. A powerful stench marked this spell, a stench of tree sap, mucus and hot water:  _boosheid._  It was the opposing force to stolthet.

A rumbling chuckle racked the commander's body.

"Don't shirk work," he sang. "What is Allworthy's reply?"

"R-Right!" The second, a heracross, said. "Great n-n-news: commander Allworthy's troop has taken Tobi into custody. He wishes to bring the prince into our tighter ranks because, a-and he asked me to quote,  _he's fucking crafty_. _"_

"Interesting." The Bonecrushed mused silently. Everyone waited. "Okay. Good news, I agree. What of my missive. Will he wait?"

The heracross shuddered. No one liked to say this word to the monster. "No. Upon hearing of our intentions to attack the outpost at noon, he proposed an updated plan: he'd bring the braixen to you, then participate in a flanking action."

The boosheid grew strong for a few seconds, then subsided. The Bonecrusher stared at the body of the diggersby. "Hm… we've been attacked."

"What – I-I mean, of course. By who?"

"Allworthy's troop attacked us. See? There's a body." The smaller force did no such thing, but no one dared correct their commander. It was obvious what conclusion the rhydon wanted to the situation. "Allworthy, old friend… I have no choice. When they come for this 'flanking action' we will turn and kill them all."

"Commander..."

"I know. Make sure that all of you know who your friends are – come noon, capes won't be a good distinction." The Bonecrusher stretched, contented with the plan to wipe a friendly force off the map. If he could kill I.E and Allworthy together… two birds with one stone. He must. To make his blood-lust, and his strength, reach new limits beyond Sentience. "What else should I know?"

"The scouts passed on speculation to me as I came in," the heracross said. "A group of four entered the outpost. A charmander, a lucario, a mienshao and a sandshrew-"

"All walk into a fucking bar? What do those breed names mean to me?!" He hardly remembered the breed of that other Punisher, the one he crippled. All he could go by was the screams. Except for lucario – that one was easy. Wayfarer Lu, Wayfarer lucario. And, now that he put his head to it, he recalled the mienshao as prince number two. "Ah. I remember. I am disappointed, though – I hoped that Lu would rejoin the Punishers after her game with prince number one. Well, at least things will be interesting. As for number two… eh, he's dead. If he ain't, I'll personally kill him along with the Wayfarer-"

"Commander." Girrup came out from the crowd of Sents. "Mine."

The three-dozen creatures moved out of the way for the awful creature. The Bonecrusher took a whiff of the cold air, then laughed till the snow shook.

"Girrup, there you are! Congratulations!" He cried. After a good year of servitude, the scizor had it: a hint of boosheid emanating from his crimson carapace. That step alone potentially doubled his frenzied power.

"I… want... t _o gut her! I wanna cut her to bits!_ " Girrup pounded the ground. Slurred words and screams; they brought pleasant memories of when the rhydon obtained his scent. "I wanna watch her beg, I wanna, I wanna… I  _need_  to make her lose." Eager to obtain the same results, the rest of the Punishers screamed their approval. They wanted just an ebb of that lust to start their own journey towards the boosheid.

The Bonecrusher roared above them all.

" _I just can't wait for noon!_ " He roared.


	15. High noon, part two

"Commander! Commander. Commander, commander!"

Allworthy turned around. "What, CheepaCheep?"

"Mutiny! Your troop is disbanding! Or did I miss an order? Should I be scouting?"

Order left a long time ago. Lu's meltdown left an awful taste in the mouths of his Troop, and many of them experienced enough infighting in other troops to sense the coming danger. When the Bonecrusher's messengers came by, and Nasfereet failed to return from his scouting, the message was clear.  _Big brawl at noon. You're in or you're out._

Who was left? He had Sans, who collected quite a bit of moss over the weeks, yet still relied on him. Fawnis stayed behind – maybe just to give him dirty looks. He had two of the brothers, or one, or none, Frig had spent the better part of three hours trying to convince Heetz to abandon ship. Tobi, the prize for turning away his troop, looked like he might be go crazy in his bindings. Allworthy wondered if he should the braixen on a walk. They could both clear their minds.

"Coma-aa-nder!"

And there was CheepaCheep. This tranquill was bred in the depths of death and madness, and would never cease to follow him. Lu, Tobi, the Punishers who remained: they made a choice to stay involved. CheepaCheep just wanted to please. The poor bird didn't deserve to be thrown into his vendetta.

"Listen to me," Allworthy said. "Things are going to get violent, so I need you to leave."

"Never ever. Pa and ma said to follow you around as long as you needed me."

"Then I don't need you."

The tranquill gave him a smug grin. "Oh, you always got the best jokes, commander sir. I won't leave you. Loyalty is important, you know?"

Allworthy chuckled. "Whatever. You two!" He called to the brothers. They looked over, eyes lit with frustration. "Make a choice in the next five minutes, or I'll make it."

Heetz groaned. "This is my chance to prove myself. I want to stay."

"We  _need_  to go," Frig shot back. "Proving yourself won't mean as much when we're mincemeat."

"What if, I don't know, one of you left and one of you stayed? Wow, I sure do impress myself sometimes." The two furret looked at one another.

Frig gave the commander a sad glance. "I can't. He's my flesh and blood."

Heetz joined in. "And if the last day or so taught me anything, it's that Orchidia is too crazy to journey across alone." So that was it. Allworthy had to admit he fell for it; he assumed they were still arguing about that family tryst. In the end, the young Sents seemed to have forgiven each other, and ended up arguing over who cared about who more. Neither of them wanted to be the brother in need of help.

Sans came over, giving Frig a playful nudge. Those who stayed scrapped the old troop politics – their decision brought wound them under one purpose. "Hey, Frig. Just stick around. You and your bro are so stealthy, I'm sure you can duck out if things go wrong." Heetz sighed in response, relenting. His brother gave him a pat on the head.

The blitzle turned to his commander. "If rumor gets out that every member of your troop bailed, then what will Orchidia think? Can they feel safe when Punishers take the easy way out? I want to leave the world more put-together than I found it."

"And I'm sticking around to make sure he doesn't get a set of fangs in his throat," Fawnis said. "Also, I want to be there when Nasfereet pummels you for being a total ass." His remaining group of Punishers clustered up towards one another. "Now you know what we're all fighting for. What's the plan, boss?"

Allworthy gave a gruff chuckle and nodded. "We've a date waiting at the Cherry Blossom Outpost – wait..." he looked around, confused. "Where did my fat one go?!" Basil wouldn't leave – the immunity for her siblings meant too much to her.

"She went after Nasfereet!" CheepaCheep cried. "Told me so, told me so."

That would've been nice to know. But Basil probably wanted it this way, to go too far out to be called back without a weavile at her side. What an industrious giant she proved to be. Allworthy gestured to his present members. "Let's go. Time is of the essence. They can catch up." In a way, he hoped that Basil failed.

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

Basil found the weavile at the destroyed bivouac near the forest. He was in the process of sorting out the Roaken's studies on Bleak, slipping the less-than-quality paper into where it belonged. An air of sadness beside the corpses filled the camp, likely because the weavile couldn't shake that feeling of betrayal, the frown on his face starting to feel like a permanent guest.

When he spotted the zangoose closing in, however, he managed a small smile. "Hello, Basil. Did the commander send you?"  _The commander –_  Nasfereet refused to say his name. "I apologize, it's just… there was much information to be processed here, and our foray earlier threw off my plans to do it."

"Hm," Basil grunted. "Well, Allworthy didn't send me. He's scared to death of seeing you all upset like this."

Upon hearing she wasn't a shill for the herdier, he dropped the act. "No else seems to be upset with him. Seeing me would remind him that they should be. They should shame him for what he did. He throttled all our trust, to get a shot on fulfilling this… this vendetta of his."

"You find something?"

"W-What?"

Basil smiled. "You ain't able to call his vendetta stupid. You found something convincin', didn't you?"

Nasfereet stood in place for a moment, then walked over to his satchel. He pulled it out: a brutalized yet remarkably put-together journal. The leather binding had an interesting scent to it. "Fine. This is a journal from one of the Roaken at the outpost, close to this I.E that incensed Allworthy. It has a recounting of the incident that led to Allworthy's demotion… when I was assigned to ensure that the herdier made his way to Sunstarch, I assumed that he was being sent somewhere quiet as a punishment for his insubordination – at first glance, he looks like the type to give the higher-ups problems. Yet… from what I can deduce? Allworthy isn't failing Atlas right now. Or he is, but Atlas failed him first. These actions of his fall in line with a Sent trying to atone for past mistakes. He's using his old vileness to follow through."

All of it confused the zangoose, but she was glad to hear Nasfereet struggling to stay mad. In fact, electricity pulsed through the weavile's coat; he believed strongly in Allworthy's actions.

"All's solved. Let's get along," Basil suggested. She turned around and started to walk back the way she came.

"Wait!" Nasfereet called. He opened the book to a folded page. "He might try to ignore me if I bring it up. But he trusts you. You want to learn how to write, correct? Let me teach you through this."

Basil nodded. She sat down in the snow, ready to listen.

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

_One year ago_

"Chug, chug, chug!" Allworthy cried. "Drink it all or it's lashing for everybody!"

The rest of his troop cheered on the rhydon, who seemed to have a bottomless stomach when it came to drink. The rhydon turned the keg up, the booze making his throat stretch as he eagerly cleaned out the barrel. After getting the drops around the edges, the Punisher slammed the keg onto the table. It broke in half, causing the troop to fall away laughing.

"Here, here, Armstrong! The booziest Punisher to grace Orchidia." Armstrong roared, shaking the foundations of the inn. A kadabra watched in horror as the single Punisher managed to make her entire stock dwindle. She offered some of their supply as an amenity, a bid to show off their confidence that the Punishers would find it in themselves to let the Roaken stay.

Still, this was too much. Sobrewright worked hard procuring that import from his brewery in Roake. "Hey," Missan said, "do you think now would be a good time? To, uh, begin the negotiations?"

"Let… let me tell ya," Armstrong blubbered. "I'm a picky drinker, but this is nice. Ooh, this is nice.'

"He's a vicious one," Allworthy warned. "Downright  _monstrous!_  You fellows are lucky you had the drink to back up this meeting. Or else –  _hic!_ It would've been your heads. Even then, we like to clobber before we talk. But – but, you two are alright." I.E and Missan shifted nervously. This meeting needed to happen; they were so low on supplies, the only way to continue to subsist as a group laid in Orchidian markets. The Punishers knew they were against their regime. But Duke Willard was amenable – for years, he presided over Orchidia as a sensible ruler. He even plucked out talents from Orchidia to promote peace. His soldiers could do the same by giving them permission to open a route straight to their outpost.

But things were becoming strange. The herdier drank and drank, as if trying to forget. And whenever he could, he flaunted the strength of that rhydom – the  _Bonecrusher._ Missan wondered if the harmless stupidity might lead them to danger.

Luckily, I.E kept his cool far better than Missan. He was a Prowlie, native born of Prowlse. Sure, he preferred to learn instead of scrap. But he knew how to fit in with a raucous lot.

"Hah!" The mightyena laughed, despite the threat. "You'll have to dig our heads out of the sand, first. We are Roaken, after all."

The troop howled, entertained by the self-deprecation. "You're funny," Armstrong, the Bonecrusher, told him. "You're… hm." The rhydom eyed him curiously. I.E kept the mirth, but took a few steps back. Whatever churned in that beast's head, the mightyena refused to become a part of his experiment.

"Please," Missan said. "All we need is an agreement that our trade routes won't be obstructed. We can provide our own protection from bandits and ferals."

The herdier hummed to himself. "You two are rebels, though. If we agree to not attack you while you attack us… we ain't winning."

"You misunderstand. Our goal isn't to wage battles against Punishers, or uproot Atlas," I.E explained. "We only want to convince others that there are ways to appease the Punishments beside sacrifices… is there a problem?" Armstrong refused to avert his drunken stare away from the mightyena. He kept sniffing at himself, and at the air. Then, after a few good whiffs, he showed off his giant maw in a wide smile.

"How dare you imply our role isn't a good way to do things?" Things became silent.

I.E didn't back down. "For now, it is. But us Roaken are working on a solution."

"...I don't see my commander having a problem with your routes. You lot aren't worth the trouble of scrapping."

I.E and Missan sighed with relief. A trade route for the outpost. Now they could finally began to branch out and educate Orchidians on the evil that consumed their loved ones. "Cool," the mightyena said. The troop laughed at the strange description.  _Cool_. Prowlies weren't known for being articulate.

Missan joined in on the mirth, able to enjoy herself now that they achieved their goal. "Thank you," she said, "commander Allworthy. For putting your best foot forward."

The herdier grinned. "You won't be trading just yet, I assume. What are you plans for the evening, lass?" Howls spread through the place of meeting. The walls of the classroom shook at the sheer number of Punishers egging on their commander.

The kadabra did her best to save face. "Uh… s-sorry, but-"

"She's taken, sorry," I.E said. He gave her a warm smile. It took a year, but the mightyena ended up forgiving her time with the braixen. They watched each other, forgetting about the howls for a moment.

 _Crunch_.

"Best foot forward," the Bonecrusher said. "Get it?"

Missan didn't understand. Why did that rhydon have a foot on top of I.E? Why was everyone laughing on when it seemed that the lights had gone out behind I.E's eyes? What was happening?

She knew. Or she learned as her mouth opened to yowl – that rhydon just broke I.E's spine. The mightyena let out a breathless scream, he hinged his life on a desperate scramble. He used whatever worked in his broken body.

Allworthy, drunk and laughing, was the second to sober up from the madness. His eyes went from dumb enjoyment to horror. "A-Armstrong?!" He asked.

"I can smell it," the Bonecrusher said. "The scent you've trained me towards. Stolthet. All I had to do was show this smug bastard a good time. It told me so." The other Punishers applauded his transition.

That wasn't stolthet. Allworthy charged at the rhydon.

"Get off!" He shouted. "Get off of him!" The herdier leaped into the air, followed by a quick spin. He kicked his right-hand square between the eyes. All that confidence he instilled in the rhydon. All his attempts to bequeath the scent of leadership to his right-hand. Allworthy's pet project, whom he had swayed from a dumb creature to one of sharp wit and body, had strayed somewhere. This new stench was filled with anger. Filled with foulness.

In a moment the other Punishers joined into the brawl, hitting whoever and whatever they wanted. The Bonecrusher scooped a drinking pal by the neck and twisted. The second victim. More to come.

Yet the Punishers were too far gone to realize. The more random the cruelty, the better chance of becoming like Armstrong – the Bonecrusher! Missan continued her howl, but found it in herself to run over to the mightyena. A couple of Punishers fell on top of her, screaming their intent to tear her apart. When she used her psychic powers to send a desk crashing into them, two more took their place.

Allworthy waded through the crowd. What a mistake. What an awful mistake. He tore off the Sents and turned around, to defend the victims from more abuse.

" _Why?!"_  Missan screamed at him. " _What are they doing?!"_

"T-The last place this job leads to..." Allworthy got up close and barked at her. The shock helped the kadabra gained back some of her wit. " _Go!_  Take him through the forest to the town nearby!" A hondour fell on him, trying to plant his young fangs in his neck. A convenience: he used his subordinates body to clear a path for the two Roaken. He charged, knocking away the young ones tangled in their path.

"Run!" He shouted. "Run and don't look back!"

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

"Some of it isn't in there," Nasfereet said. "But I assumed a few of the pieces based on the conclusion." He hung his head low, ashamed.

Basil understood why Allworthy would be so fascinated with the luck of it all. "She escaped and ran all the way to our shed. Why's the Bonecrusher in charge? The bastard killed kin and innocents."

"Allworthy took control and dragged the Bonecrusher across Orchidia in bindings. When he… when he reached Treasus and gave his story to the Dukes? Duke Willard sent  _him_  into the dungeons. Apparently he committed treason by assisting the Roaken. An attempt to make a good Punisher greater… it resulted in boosheid, a corrupter of spirit. Girrup, his voice – that is the sound of offspring. If that rhydon is permitted to increase his power and induce this madness in his troops, Orchidia is doomed to fall to a regime of murderers. Allworthy is preventing the downfall of Orchidia, in a way. And I called him  _sick._ "

Basil got up and offered a paw. "It's not too late," she said. "They fight at noon. You gonna feel sorry for yourself or help him?"

"I was never much of a fighter," Nasfereet admitted. He ground his teeth together and rose to his feet, and slung his satchel over his arm. "But I owe it to Allworthy and those fellow scholars to give it to that glorified monster."

"Let's go."

The two went off, to catch up to their troop.

* * *

**We are very close to the end of this story. Thank you to everyone reading!**


	16. Lu's Life, conclusion

The sun hurtled towards its zenith in the sky. Lu knew that everything hinged on what she said next.

The Roaken rebels knew her before they ever saw her, as that tall, fearsome lucario that Paws had no problem embellishing. They understood that she 'fixed' a Punishment – not just survived, like Orchidians spread in their rumors, but  _fixed_. After her involvement, the Whitestone Punishment never accepted another sacrifice. Those Sents the Punishers forced into it were promptly set out hours later, with the same experience: after the panic subsided, they chose a path and walked down it, having a pleasant time, despite their terror. Atlas covered this information well for the sake of peace, but these Roaken knew this most fanciful of legends was the truth.

Yet what did they think, now that they saw Lu in the flesh? She spent two years saving a braixen from himself, instead of deposing the centuries-old blight of Pokéterra. She spoke about the importance of going back for Tobi. That they shouldn't run from the coming fight. To these scholarly Sents, however, their logic punctured that argument with ease. Of course they should run. The other option was sure death, the infighting between Punisher troops notwithstanding.

Sobrewright even went as far as to break his promise:  _she's in love with the prince,_  he told his colleagues,  _she wants to bear his children._  He had the 'decency' to propose she'd been charmed. An easy target because of her helpful disposition, the Roaken all agreed. Yet in the back of their minds they no longer beheld the Wayfarer Lugum in charge of their hopes. They saw Lu – bumbling, love-stricken, mortal like the rest of them.

She bled and breathed. That was how they discounted her pleas to stay till they were practically leaving her in the outpost, I.E blurting out an apology as he rushed towards his clump of subordinates. The mightyena had every reason to be afraid of the Bonecrusher. So did anyone who had bones to break, really. They were about to go. Tobi would be doomed the moment they set out in the other direction. It was fortunate that Maga laid out of earshot, or his heart would have been broken too.

 _Did she want to help_? That was the question Lu asked herself, in order to find the motivation to stop them a second time. The embarrassment hurt, so did her inability to say the right thing.

But maybe if she got angry enough… it wasn't hard when she tried. No more of that  _wait-and-hope_  strategy she used on Tobi.

" _Wait right there!"_  Lu shouted, in her best big-girl voice. "You're all going to listen up!"

The entire Roaken company froze. I.E heard that well enough to know right where the lucario stood.

"Lugum," he said, "I'm very sorry. But there is no one of value in that squabble. Can you please get Bleak from-"

"Don't you dare condescend to me." Lu showed her teeth off to the blind Sent. He couldn't see that, but he could smell the clogging scent of stolthet on the air. Is this who they needed? Babysitter Lugum? She'd played that role several times before – that day in Whitestone, an encounter with Fabula's sister.. and with Tobi in the classroom. "I'm the daughter of your big boss. And I order you to all stay and fight."

Several of the Roaken began to chat among themselves. Lu slammed a foot into the ground, ripping apart whatever chatter they started.

"If that's your order," I.E answered, "then we'll risk the punishment back at Roake."

" _Gah!_ Why don't you get it?!" Lu asked. "If you pick and choose who to save and who to leave behind, if you play that game, you lose every time!"

The mightyena opened his mouth, yet never found the retort that was supposed to come out. He didn't have an answer. None of them had an answer to that. Lu smiled – it was her turn to teach them a thing or two.

"When I chose to fight against the Punishment that day, I learned something. I'm not a talker or a thinker, or anything, so I never got to figuring out what that lesson was. If you want the reason why I helped Tobi, though, then listen closely, okay?"

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

_Five years ago_

"Happy?!" Paws shouted. He perked up to his full height, wings spread out to intimidate. The commanding Punisher fell under the spell of his size, and fell back with a tiny yelp. Lu turned her head to the side, almost amused in the midst of the awfulness going on; the weavile was pretty scrawny for a commander. "Damn it, what were you lot thinking? That entire town is doomed! What happened to doing your job?"

"I wanted to!" the weavile replied. "Arceus, they wouldn't let me. I sent letters to the Dukes, yet none of them answered. I s-see you've fought against that mass of crazed Sents. However brief, did it leave you with the impression that my troop of six had any chance?"

The pidgeot scoffed, turning his beak away for a pause from the yelling match – at least, until he had a good enough riposte. After evacuating with Fab's children to the outskirts of Whitestone. The espeon had fainted in the green pasture. The rush hid the number her psychic attacks did to her body. Her children clustered around her, mewling softly at the chaos in Whitestone that could be heard from miles away.

"Ever heard of calling for help?" Paws finally asked.

"Yes. I thought of removing Punishers from other posts. That way, many Disasters could happen at once. Genius. Simply genius!"

"Screw off!"

"Keep your day job turning spits and leave the Punishing to the Punishers!" For all his gusto, the weavile was near-petrified with horror. All of the survivors in the green field were falling prey to the imminence of the Disaster. A tidal wave to wipe away a whole city. Like they did to lines in the sand. Three scores of markets, townsfolk and other rabble all tried their own way of ignoring the threat. The smell of many Sents in one place never seemed fouler.

As helpful as the noise proved to be as a distraction, Lu grew tired of the two getting nowhere. "What's next?" She asked. The two squabbling adults turned to the lucario.

"Excuse me, who are you?" The weavile asked.

"I'm Lu! And that's Paws… er, Hellingly to you. What's your name?"

"N-Nasfereet," the commander blurted. "I would appreciate if you could pull him off of me. It's about time we move farther from the predicted Disaster area." Paws huffed, but even he couldn't argue against that idea.

"Are there more Punishers coming in?" Lu asked. "What are you going to do about the Sents still in Whitestone? I can help, if you are short-handed-"

Nasfereet hissed and turned his back on the lucario. "I should have expected you to place blame, just like your friend here. I hope you got that mockery out of your system."

"He's my dad. And I don't understand what you mean," Lu said.

Paws shook his head. "Lu, there's naught to be done. In a way, they asked for it, and at this point all we should do is let them have it."

"No joke, we're going back, right?" Lu asked, shocked. "None of them asked to die! They asked for a few weeks without the fear of dying!" Nasfereet and Paws gave her a pitying glance, then went to their own devices. "H-Hey..." was that all? Over sixty Sents prepared to say  _whelp_ ,  _those hundreds asked for it!_

Nope. Not when she was still breathing - Lu's heartbeat pounded in her head as she set her foot down. She walked over to their supplied, or what Paws salvaged before they had no choice but to flee. Of course, the forward-thinking pidgeot saved a hunting satchel. What was the livelihood for two would have to do for the livelihood of hundred.

Lu swung the bag over her arm. " _Fine!_ " She shouted. " _I"ll go and sort the Punishment out myself!_ "

Paws craned his neck, slowly. Lu stared him down.

"...What?" He breathed.

Nasfereet, too, couldn't ignore that claim. "Quit your fit-throwing, newbody. Getting yourself killed will save no one."

"No, I'll do it."

"No, you won't," her father told her. "Lu, you're starting to scare me. I refuse to lose you in a bid to save a bunch of rebels."

Lu grinned. "The Punishment is busy making a Disaster. Now's the best time to go inside and strike!" The conversation seized the attention of a few nearby merchants. They talked among each other, then waved some curious Sents in to hear the crazy lucario talk about killing the Punishment.

"We've no idea what powers a Punishment," Nasfereet said. "The Whitestone Punishment is no different. That cave on the beach… anyone who goes inside, never comes out again. Take it from a Punisher – that's the way it works, and will work, forever."

"Normal caves don't accept sacrifices or make tidal waves," Lu replied. "I bet something in there bleeds." The clamoring of the crowd became louder; their minds clogged with terror, even the thought of it brought clarity. "Oh," she said, playing to the crowd. "Thanks for telling me where it is." After a few years swimming at Plage Whitestone, she knew about the dark place farther down the coast. The Sents laughed as Nasfereet fumbled over himself. "This sort of chance comes once in a lifetime."

"She's right, you know!" Someone called out from the crowd. Fab came forward, wobbly from exhaustion. She pushed out the fogginess in her mind and stood tall. "Because of the bazaar, our numbers run into the sixties. We can  _persuade_  quite a few Sents back in town to flee, I bet." The crowd was unsure of this idea – in simple terms, it was much more fun to listen than to take part. "Lu stood by my children for an hour of hell. As far as I'm concerned, that ought to count for her Punishment. It's every bit unfair – she had to do the job of sixty Sents for no reason! Someone watch my children. I'm going back to Whitestone"

Lu gave the espeon a reassuring nod. "Do what you guys wants. I'll have this figured out in the hour."

She gave Paws one last look before setting out for the cave at the end of the beach. The Whitestone Punishment, a den of death. He knew, like when she ran away before, that it was in her blood.

So he chose to be confident in his daughter. "Find the weak spot," he said. "Strike quick and fast."

She waved back at him as she ran. No need for goodbyes.

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

Is this what it felt like for every Punished Sent? Lu stood still for a moment, sniffing at the air. The dour smell of a Punishment hung off the walls, perhaps made stronger by the imminent Disaster. Looking deeper into the abyss left her eyes feeling tired and confused. After deciding that it was safe enough, she took a few more steps into the cave.

Then it happened: the roaring frenzy in the town nearby faded into nothingness. The gaping entrance to the cave tightened into a black dot, then became a wall of stone. The force of the Punishment lapping at her feet caused the lucario to trip. She stumbled, rolling to her feet before something worse could catch her by surprise.

It didn't kill her outright. That was a given, however; Lu heard all the rumors about Punishers being driven mad by screaming, just audible from outside the place's cursed barrier. A thick, spooling energy fell into her coat. In a cave like this, it was best to assume that every rumor she heard was true.

For example: Ferals, creatures bent on death, originated from these dens of death.

That thick energy testing her body made a sudden note of her presence. Lu could feel it, as strongly as she could feel when a quarry spotted her out of the corner of its eye. The sensation was followed by several other prickles on the back of her neck. A response from the first force.

Lu saw it emerge from a dark corner of the slimy cave. When Sents used to be called Pokémon, the numbers of their breeds were much greater. Many of these ancient breeds exited only as Ferals, now.

Another rumor proved to be right. "W-Whoa," Lu said, raising up her paws. "What are you supposed to be?"

The glowing orange rock had pointed yellow clubs poking out from every angle, each one dangerous and ready to impale. Its eyes were made of rock, like the rest of its body, except for the two trailing red lights acting as its irises. Of course, it knew not the words to respond to Lu's question – so it began to shake violently, forming a response of its own language out of the rocks.

A rock formation broke apart, sucked into its control. Lu knew that an injury this close to the entrance spelled certain failure. She had to use her hunter's wit to take a drastic, speedy advantage.

It completed its collection of sharp stones. Lu dove for the darker parts of the cave. With nowhere to go but forward, she found her first roll put the feral at a better angle to score a blow.

Lu popped the top of her hunting satchel and removed the rope normally used to hogtie dangerous boars. Before the feral could line up its second toss, the lucario lassoed one of its many spikes. She pulled downward. The strange beast went spinning out of control, losing its ability to float. The way it laid flat on the cave floor, it was as though it didn't even mind. The sight put doubt in her mind.

 _Strike quick and fast_. Paws words. Lu dashed forward, spikes aimed for those glowing irises. One by one, they dimmed after being punctured. The creature made no attempt to resume its floating, nor to use the rocks it amassed. Lu rose up from her dive, panting.

 _Interesting._ The word echoed from deeper in the cave.  _You handled that solrock well, despite your lack of knowledge. You learn quick_.

Lu almost bit her tongue in panic. There went the element of surprise… yet… the voice didn't send more ferals after her. "Thanks," she called back down to the abyss.

 _I send a single solrock to greet newcomes. They end lives the fastest of all Pokémon at my disposal._ The voice's energy touched her again. She ducked away immediately.  _I can taste your intent to kill me. Come – your competence intrigues me._

Blue moss lit up throughout the long cave. It was so bright, she could even see an exit on the other side. With a lack of options, Lu walked forward and – although she tried to keep focused – admired the beauty of the blue moss.

While moving onward, Lu decided to learn more about this Punishment. "Who are you?" She asked the cave. "If you can speak, you've gotta know: you're killing innocent Sents."

_Innocent? We disagree. I dare not fight you with words, however. I have not spoken to another in seventy years. I find that language can oft convince one before one should be convinced._

"S-Seventy years?! Okay… you must be lonely. How about letting a few of those sacrifices survive? If you show them how reasonable you can be, they will-"

_THEIR PUNISHMENT MUST NEVER BE FORGIVEN!_

Lu had but a second to avoid an avalance of rocks right at her back. The new development forced her into an underground lake. A thin stone bridge separated her from a steep fall into the water. In such depths, the Punishment could trump all her wits. The voice continued to berate her as it sent two more ferals down from the blackened roof of the cave. Scyther? No, they had bladed arms fitting the breed, but had brown carapaces. Their sickle-like arms radiated blue under the moss's light. They were ready to kill.

 _SEVENTY YEARS AGO I BECAME AWARE._ I SAW MY SHINING STAR PERISH.

Lu ducked under the first advance. Somehow, she managed to switch sides with the ferals without getting cut to ribbons. Due to the bridge's narrowness, the two had to take turns.

 _THEY SLAUGHTERED MY FAMILY TO PROVE A POINT. CREATURES CAPABLE OF SUBJUGATING OTHERS THROUGH SUCH METHODS, MUST BE PUNISHED_!

"Sents change!" Lu yelled. She managed to get a grip on a feral's arm that wasn't coated in metal. The other one saw an opportunity to kill her while she grappled with its ally. Lu bucked her her closest opponent into the advancing feral. Then, while the two tried to sort out the tangle they became, Lu jumped into a quick roundhouse. One of her enemies flew off the bridge, into the water. With any luck, it sank into the shimmering pool.

_I WAS A PAINTER. THEY TOLD ME TO SELL MY ART FOR MONEY, FOR ATLASANS HAD NO ART WITH WHICH TO RECIPROCATE, AND THIS BROUGHT THEM SHAME. I REFUSED. THEY BLED MY FAMILY OUT LIKE PIGS IN THE STREETS. I PUNISH THEM. THE CYCLES GOES ON._

"Do you even know? Almost  _all_  of the Sents you kill aren't Atlasan in the first place!" Lu dodged two spikes headed for her shoulders by hugging the last feral. Then she pushed out, hoisted it up by its arms, and slammed it into the edge head-first. The rock broke away, leaving the dazed creature to fall into the water. "And even if they were, everyone's changed. There is order now."

_ORDER?! IF YOU ARE SO ORDERED, WHERE ARE THOSE WHO MUST BE PUNISHED?_

Lu sighed and rose to her feet. "They took a rain check," she said.

 _..forgive me,_  the Punishment muttered.  _I think of what those kabutops might have done to you, and tremble. That was no way to react to your suggestion. Thank Arceus for your strength._

"Apology  _not_  accepted."

_..hm._

This Punishment was a Sent. Maybe an ancient Sent, but nonetheless: it had wallowed in this cave for seventy years, killing everything it could. Punishments were supposed to be abstract. Yet, even in this magical place, the chain of who-hurt-who reigned on. The thought made the lucario sad.

"Listen to me," Lu said, trying to catch her breath after the ambush. "This isn't healthy. Can I meet you face to face?"

The voice hummed its agreement.  _I know what you are, young hunter. Come prove your words through your art's expression_. Across the bridge, rubble split off into the water. A new way had opened.

Lu nodded and slammed her paws together. "You've got it."

Just beyond the basin was an image that would return to her in dreams for years to come. A feebas, made of white stone, opened its mouth in surprise or joy. It let loose a newly hatched milotic. Blue moss acted as the splash of the water, the electricity in the air, the prospects of growth. The image resonated in Lu's heart – she felt the same way at her evolution. Somehow, Lu knew she was seeing the milotic's daughter in the form of a grand sculpture. A gigantic milotic had coiled itself around this piece of magnificent art.

Now/ in earshot, the voice of the Punishment lost its echo. "She had just evolved," the milotic lamented. "My beautiful daughter. How the world needed her inspiration..." the feebas statue shook – Lu surmised that it channeled the milotic's power. It could even be the source of the coming wave. "The stature behind me is the solution you seek," the milotic said, confirming Lu's suspicions. "Come. Show Mileena the Sculptor... the will of a hunter."

Lu took a step back. Too big. Too strong. The sheer jump from the statue to the ground sent cracks into the ground. Even with energy pouring into the wave, the Punishment was too much.

Mileena sensed the realization. "Oh. You choose to tremble? I'm sorry for leading you on. I shall focus on ending you quickly."

The milotic rushed forward, bashing into the young Sent. Before Lu could soar into the wall a gigantic tail stopped her flight. The fan on it cut Lu's back open as it pushed her into the ground. As blood spread into the cracks, Mileena prepared to cleave the lucario with her tail. Something caught her attention.

"...That blood!" Mileena cried. "You are one of those who placed me here!"

"Huh? I… I'm not an… Atlasan" The two blows dealt all the damage they needed to in order to subdue the hunter. They also cleared Lu's mind of fear – all she felt now was grim determination. She lazily stabbed her spike into the distracted milotic's body. The blow didn't faze the great sculptor. "I'm an Orchidian… if it… matters."

"The Memory remembers the taste of your blood. But who are you? Work faster, Memory."

"The Memory?" Lu asked.

In a sudden twist, the milotic began to refuse conversation. "Nothing you ought to know. Or be connected to…  _no!_  Your mother-"

"My mom?" If it wasn't for the jolt, Lu would have been skewered; the Punishment was now set on ending her with renewed intensity. "What do you know?" The pain in her back bubbled away.

"Stop recovering!" Mileena pleaded. "You are too dangerous a child. You would end my existence here!"

"D... _Duh!"_

Lu jumped away from another strike, the milotic's speed no longer an issue. A combination of sensations struck the lucario at the same time: the feeling of her own blood trickling down her back, the stench of the milotic, the oppressive energy of the Punishment. All of them mingled to restart an instinct unknown to the young lucario. An ancient instinct to call forth the power to survive.

Mileena rushed again. " _Stop it!"_

With a swift kick, Lu laid the gigantic beast onto her side. Her blood ceased to flow in silence. It felt as if it rushed twice-through for every beat, in long, frenzied  _pounds_. The wet beats of her heart took over the chamber. Lu stared down the now-cowering Mileena.

The milotic surged back into a fighting stance. With a desperate yowl, she summoned up columns of water from the wet floor of the cave. Lu managed to keep out of each one as it exploded. If she even touched the edges, the blasts could take off a limb. Yet she painted the edges as she closed in, weaving through the attacks. Mileena summoned one more column, larger than the rest.

Lu came from above.

" _Sudden death!"_  She roared. The name of a martial art only this instinct remembered.

The hammer kick Lu delivered to the milotic sent aftershocks through the chamber. The feebas statue cracked under the immense pressure of the blow. Mileena herself fared just as poorly – the ruler of the Punishment laid, twitching, a foot planted on her skull. The sheer execution of the kick seemed to pull all the tension out from Lu's muscles. The exertion would have made her faint, but the rush of blood kept her standing.

Unable to speak with a broken head, Mileena fell back to echoes.  _Just like the Memory revealed… you've kept your mother's strength_

"My mom," Lu asked, "what do you know?"

_Nothing and everything. The Memory is all that which is connected by the dungeons. It remembers the terror those like me felt as she descended upon them. Her blood pounded like yours._

As for that special circulation, Lu found it to be on the decline. It became easier to hear again. "Well, that isn't helpful."

... _I can also tell you that she ended the lives of those who would preside over a dungeon. Hurry. End it quick. I have long wondered if death could bring absolution._

Mileena waited. Waited for nothing.

Instead, the lucario was inspecting some light at the end of a new tunnel. "Be thankful," she called back, "that the only parent I will ever have is Paws. And he's probably worried sick. But," Lu added, pointing at the milotic, "accept any more sacrifices, and I'll be back!"

Mileena managed to shake her head.  _The r-rage… it is too great. I have done naught but kill entrants for the last seven decades._

"Guess what? For the last seventy years, you've been free to show off those statues of yours. Try it out. Sents will be scared at first… but maybe..."

The lucario fainted on her way out of the cave. Mileena rose up from the ground and looked at the rubble of the only work she completed in so many years.

 _Maybe,_  she said.  _But maybe…_

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

"You let that creature  _live?!_ " Sobrewright asked. "I always assumed it became peaceful because it was unoccupied..."

"Nope. After I fainted, she brought me out of her cave. The last time I checked, she had a new plan in mind: to learn about the Sents being Punished, then make them a statue of something they like." It was that exact shift that made Duke Willard interested in her. Five years ago, the Duke still either cared or pretended to care about the well-being of Orchidia. He instated the Wayfarers of the Storm - Lu, Paws, Fab, and several others from that day - into a team dedicated to quelling rebellions. They were the first to respond. The only to respond. They saved countless lives by stifling conflicts, until the day two years ago, where it all broke apart. Duke Willard became worse with each passing year, and the Wayfarers, good Sents in nature, couldn't handle the results. They stopped fighting the rebellion and  _became_  it.

I.E coughed, looking worse for wear after learning so many truths about Wayfarer Lugum. "So. What's your point, Lu? What did you learn?"

Lu grinned ear to ear. "That if we want to stop the Punishments, we have to work on this side, too. If we keep punishing each other – heck, punishing  _ourselves_ for the past, we will just continue the cycle. Think about how many tragedies like Mileena's happened that day in Whitestone. All because a bunch of capable Sents waited too long before helping."

"So running won't help!' A krookodile said. He seemed elated to have such renewed faith in his hero. "Wayfarer Lugum is correct – if we leave these Punishers to fry, Cherry Blossom Outpost could outright become a Punishment."

Sobrewright groaned. "It'll be a slight to our mission statement," he mumbled.

The other Rokan began to concur. They all looked to their commander. The only one with any real fighting experience.

The mightyena chuckled to himself. "Guess I've been letting my Prowlse heritage down. Somebody point me in the right direction and I'll have this squabble sorted out in time for lunch!"

Cheers were head around the camp. Lu felt satisfied – just like that day in Whitestone, she took charge in a good way. Now that she knew how, it was Tobi's turn for a stern lecture.


	17. Twin Strengths, conclusion

While Lu built up the courage of the Roaken rebels, Maga's impatience ramped up right along the cries outside. His ears perked and he tensed up. Just a glimpse of the Roaken quitting their escape would do. He'd let the fresh scabs on his back tear right open again, if doing so gave him a yes or no answer:  _did he have a chance at seeing Tobi?_

Bleak pushed him down for the fifth time. Fifth time that minute, precisely. "Seriously?" The child asked. "You've got do your business or something?"

"I apologize. I am very swept away by the situation," Maga said, giving the charmander a dumb smile. After Lu promised to bring Tobi back to him, her accusation proved eerily true: the mienshao became reasonable afterward. So reasonable it was disturbing the charmander, who knew the vicious side of the prince, to listen to the creature that almost killed him  _apologize_. Not for the attempt. Never. Maga would apologize for being a nuisance to his own recovery, yet wouldn't say a word about dousing Bleak's tail in the river. Then again, the mienshao couldn't help it.

At first he was only disturbed. Then the young welder became a bit angry. The contract, buried into a shallow cut on the mienshao's leg, began to shake.

"Yeouch!" Maga growled. He didn't move away, however; Bleak's healing process already alleviated much of his soreness. The idea of being battle-ready by afternoon seemed to all the more real.

"I ought to hurt you more," Bleak surmised, getting a grip on the contract, "if you're going to pretend that hurt. If you can survive all that stuff before, a bit of malpractice won't get you to yelp."

"Are you mad that I hurt you?" Maga asked.

"No. I'm mad at… just…"

The mienshao sighed. "Leave it to a kid... you must be hungry. Or teething. Oh – do you need a burping?"

"Look. Maga. I think my part in this has been very unfair."

Bleak removed the contract from Maga's wound. With its magic influence, the small cut started to wither back under his fur. The mienshao looked at him curiously. "What do you mean,  _your part?_  You didn't volunteer. Quit blathering and work on my wounds, okay?" The mienshao did his best to fall back into that fake, polite tone.

The talk started to make the child uncomfortable. Then, he decided with finality: it was better to come out with it while he still could.

"...I wanted you to be my friend," Bleak muttered. "You want to ditch us after getting Tobi back. Don't lie, I can tell."

Maga gaped at the expressionless child. Then, he laid down on his back, and put a paw over his head so the charmander couldn't see him laugh. "Y-You've got to be joking!" It was the first sign that Maga felt any guilt at all for what he did; the mienshao laughed as though his life depended on it. The alternative was to sit and listen to Bleak give him undue respect.

"I'm not," Bleak said. "Alone, I am powerless – I can't fight like you can. So I have to find Sents like you, make them my friends, and assist them with my power so they win the battles I could only dream of fighting." That, at least, got the mienshao to stop laughing. The idea of friendship lost its childish edge.

"Why don't you, uh, get together with your den siblings?" Maga asked, only half-joking. "Pick garbage up around town – heal them if they trip and get scrapes?"

"I want to be a hero like Lu is a hero."

"Then meet the height requirement first."

" _No!_ " A hint of anger flashed on his face. The contract, resting on Maga's leg, became piping hot. "I already have one friend who's going to help me change the world. My den sibling Basil. Unlike my other friends… we share something special. We bonded over a special thing."

Maga peeked out from under his paw. "What's that?"

He smiled inwardly, remembering the act with pride. "She killed someone in order to protect me. Like I did for you..."

PUNISHMENTS~~~

_Two years ago_

Funnily enough, it wasn't the injured stranger in the shed that made dinner awkward.

"Children, farmhands, give me your attention," Momola called over the chatter, She inspected her rows of hungry kids. The young Sents licked their chops, the smell of good stew stinging their small noses. Coatzle, who went straight to the front for swallowing that rat, rolled over onto his back with an angry huff. "Especially you, demon-dog! We have a very important guest."

Bleak gave his den mother a curious look. Did someone come in for a visit while he was distracted? The kadabra stabilized after an hour of intense work – a time when, lucky for the charmander, the farmhands stopped working till they had food in their bellies.

It turned out to be a very unwanted guest; when Bleak saw the caped luxio limp in from the guest bedroom, his appetite flew from his body. A Punisher. The child put two and two together: the kadabra mentioned a patrol, and she nor her friend had a Punisher's cloak, so the only conclusion was-

"Hello, kiddos," the Punisher said. "I hope you won't mind my staying here. I'm looking for a  _na-aa-sty_ pair of rebels. Have you seen anyone suspicious?" Bleak bit down a scoff. He was a little young to be speaking down to anyone.

"Why is he talking to us like that, mama?" Coatzle asked. "Did he hurt his brain?" A few of their siblings giggled. Tannor and Trixie showed up with the loudest barks, the poochyena's newest fans.

Momola came over and gave the pup a good cuff. "Ask this one and that one," she said, referring to Coatzle and Bleak. "They've been playing outside. My second boy, he is very clever."

"You are, huh?"

"I get along," Bleak answered.

"Did you see a Sent out in your field today?"

"The  _whole_  day? Because there were plenty."

The luxio hummed to himself. "Okay. Did you see a Sent… this afternoon?"

"Are we talking about, uh, in the field? Or just anywhere now?"

Momola interrupted with a piercing laugh. "That's my boy, always making those  _semantery_  jokes! Stop jesting with the poor injured Punisher and tell him what you know," the delcatty growled. Bleak warred against his animal desire to avoid a beating. No sooner did Momola start to approach, and Bleak's mouth start to open, did Basil come bursting into their living room. The blood on her chest had been washed clean, a damp spot in its place.

In a quick, witty move, Basil pointed at the charmander. "Ma, Bleak spent the whole day trying to block the irrigation. I cleaned it up."

" _What?!"_  Momola cried. "Why would you do that?"

Bleak caught on quick. "B-Because… I didn't want another rat to drown. Sorry, mama." The luxio smile and looked up, as if he 'remembered' when he was a kid. Something happened that pushed this Punisher's ego into the clouds.

As for their secret, they passed by that dinner. Bleak received a good whacking for his lie, but that sting couldn't compare to when he moved the kadabra out of the shed and into the abandoned basement below the farmhouse.

"You'll be safe in here," Bleak told her. The kadabra nodded and threw herself against a nearby support. She slid down, still too injured to go short distances without rest.

She managed a grin through the pain. "Child, you're a blessing from Dialga. For my future to be saved by such hopeful talent… it's as if… Dialga atones for the atrocity he put me through."

"Save your strength," he said.

"Once I am well enough to return. I swear it, you may dedicate yourself to very large things."

"Larger than the farm?" He asked, excited.

"I said large things, didn't I – ah!" She clutched her side. Bleak pushed out some niceties before running upstairs, his body charged with the idea of helping solve large problems. The more he thought about it, the more he knew that he would build that wall around the irrigation, had the contract not interfered. But this was a chance. A chance to do right by more than a rat.

Basil noticed the drastic change in the charmander. He already kept his composure better than the other children. Now he seemed to age three days in one. Basil helped in whatever way she could – relaying a message or two, shunting that Punisher away from any clues to the kadabra's cranny, bringing some food from the pig trough down to the basement. That last one didn't go over so well. Basil couldn't wrap her head around it: it wasn't the worst-tasting food out there.

A few days of hiding stretched into two weeks. By the end of these weeks, Bleak started to have doubts about the kadabra. Whatever led to her injuries had struck her confidence. Bleak feared that, even so she recovered nicely, Missan failed to find the courage to leave the safety of the dark. Of course, no Sent could refuse the sun for so long; Missan took gigantic, risky walks around the farm at night. The pressure her strolls put on the child began to eat away at his patience.

"I wanted to observe you more," she said, on the day Bleak could no longer restrain himself. "Commit you to memory. After all, a Roaken's most precious-"

"Possession is their mind," Bleak finished. There was no convincing the kadabra to leave. Nor did he want to turn her away. To do so meant defeat, that he had no chance of becoming a hero. Bleak wanted to prove himself.

Yet that desire crashed with Missan's increasing neurosis. She got better physically, yet the disaster left something far more important crippled. One day during supper, this damage reached its climax.

"So there I was," the Punisher named Batz told the group of kids. "So afraid, my muscles refused to move! A surprise attack by the Roaken rebels – the crafty pair planned to thin our ranks for a full-scale assault. Well – not on Armstrong's watch! The rhydon came down, defeating the mightyena in one fell blow."

Basil's mouth kept twitching up. She wanted to bare her fangs. "Go on," she insisted.

"I thought it was done, over. Yet the kadabra turned out to be a far worse threat than our prowlie friend. The bitch-"

"Language," Momola gently reminded. Housing a Punisher gave the delcatty a lot of power in Six-burrow. The uneducated Sents thought it gave her the power to have them Punished, for the low effort of asking Batz a favor. Momola cheated freely on her betting games. She did before, but now the odds were nigh-impossible to overcome. And, through this freedom, Batz became her favorite child.

"Sorry, den mother Momola," Batz said. "A-Anyway, this kadabra sent mind-controlling waves into our troop. Friends attacked friends! My own commander protected the rebel, saving her from the chaos. Can you believe it?"

Coatzle came up close, excited by the twists and turns of the story. And by the mention of his adult breed. "Wow! What was the mightyena like?" He asked.

"Bah," Batz replied. "Like any Prowlie. Stinky. Flea-bitten. Better off in the pit of some arena-"

" _No-oo-o!"_  A voice screeched. Faint yet distinct. Everyone froze in place, too stunned to notice the scratching that followed. Bleak did, and it made his heart skip a beat.

Batz inspected their faces for anything less than surprise. "Is there someone living below us?" He asked.

"No way," Bleak said in an instant. "No one goes down there."

"Yeah," Basil added. "Naught but rot in that place. What we must have heard was the wind rushing through the boards."

"It does happen," he said.

"A lot," she insisted.

Coatzle's excitement saved them from being the odd ones out. "Who cares?" He asked. "Prowlies have fleas? I like fighting fleas, it gives me something to do after dinner..." Batz gave the poochyena a nod, seemingly giving up on the noise. Bleak knew that outburst was the final straw: it was time for Missan to chin up and leave.

And that was where the wannabe hero made his mistake: Batz caught him in the middle of the night, talking to the panicking kadabra in the dark basement. The moment Missan failed to summon the psychic power to retaliate, Bleak knew it was over.

"A-ha!" Batz cried. "You… you were hiding her this entire time! I should have known. You were quite obvious, but your den mother led me astray. Such a nice delcatty surely couldn't raise traitors."

"Leave him alone," Missan mumbled. "It's me you want, anyway." She turned to the dejected charmander. "Sorry, Bleak – I stayed in my mind for far too long."

"No, wait!" Bleak made one last appeal to the luxio. "I c-can see it. You are like me, you want to make big changes in the world. You don't have to be a bad Punisher if you work together with me..." the luxio began to laugh. His countenance changed, as if the dank basement had possessed his spirit. Batz turned up, his teeth shining in the darkness.

"I shouldn't be telling you this," the Punisher said, "but I'm a bit of a liar. First off, I hate your rotten mother. I hate you rotten children. Want to know how I dealt with that poochyena barking in my ear? A dream… of me taking this bitch into the forest and gutting her. Or of slaughtering that termite while he slept." Both dreams sent a shiver down the young Sent's spine.

Missan stood in front of Bleak. "The stench from the rhydon that night… it corrupted you. I thought it might be that way. You were touched by his boosheid."

"What are you talking about?  _Stench?_  It smelt great!" Batz came closer, claws sliding out of his paws. "Now be a good, smart fox and come with me. I can't stand this place a moment longer."

"Aw," Basil said. "I thought you liked it here." Bleak dared to hope; if she had the instinct to check on the basement, then maybe Basil had a plan to go with it.

The luxio visibly jolted at the zangoose's presence. He fell back into his happy-go-lucky act. "Of course I did. Till I realized that your dear sibling was sheltering fugitives. Rebels like her make things dangerous for everyone. I'm so glad!"

"...Why?" Basil asked.

"Because every fugitive I turn in makes Orchidia a better place. Not even my title can bog down the little things, you know? When I get back to my troop, a rebel in my captivity, they'll start respecting me. What an adventure I've had in this quaint town-"

_Snap. Thud._

Bleak had to look away. The luxio never stopped smiling. Not even when Basil stooped over and put her weight onto him. She squeezed, squeezed, till the Sent's neck snapped. And the corrupted creature never turned off his act. Like a venomous snake, he never left his coil. A cold-blooded killer to the last.

Basil looked down at her handiwork. "I-I… panicked." Bleak took a step toward her. She retreated to the steps, her paws held out. "I killed that poor Punisher. I ended his fun little adventure. I'm a mean, mean critter."

"Basil, he was bloodthirsty. He put on an act to trick everyone into letting him stay."

"No, no need to lie to me." Basil sat down on the steps and hid her face. "I'm no better than that rhydon he told us about. Big and stupid."

Bleak ran forward, stepping over the luxio's body so he could hug his den sibling. He needed to stand a few steps higher just to do it. "Basil… I swear on my life, that luxio was bad news. You saved Coatzle's life - Missan's, too. You're cleverer than you think. Together, together… we can become heroes. Now there's no one else that has a closer bond than us." She killed to save him. He understood what that meant, even in his youth. He would be explaining his distance from others to himself, years later, as a result of when he saw a drowned rat. In truth, it all began when he saw Basil commit the ultimate act to save his life. He knew what true friendship was.

Missan spoke up. "We need to hide the body. To anyone besides us, this luxio abandoned his Punisher duties. No one needs to know about the infection of his spirit."

Basil got up from the stairs and scooped the body into her arms. She cradled it, guilty yet relieved.

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

Bleak inched in on Maga after his story was done. The mienshao scooted away in order to keep the distance. "So, do you see now?"

"Y-Yeah, I think I get it," Maga said. "You and that zangoose are batshit insane. But so was the luxio, so points to you."

Instead of yelling or even reacting to the accusation, Bleak simply waited.

Maga continued. "Listen, kid. You need to grow up more before taking on this kind of stuff. If you rush into it, it can eat you alive. Inspiration is a dangerous thing. Me? I don't want to fight anymore – it doesn't matter what anyone thinks of me at this point… I want to get Tobi back so we can bury our heads somewhere out of danger. I'm sure if you want to get burned, there are tons who feel the same. Not me, though."

"Maga, that choice isn't yours," Bleak said. "Has anyone ever intruded on your mind, in any way?"

The mienshao entertained the spirit welder with an honest answer. "Yeah, sure, when I still lived with this bastard of a Duke. I was down in the dumps about something, to the point it hurt… and the Duke sent me to some psychics to take care of the depression. Whoop-dee-doo."

"You need to stay with me, then."

"Did that magic of yours make you deaf-"

"No, but it made me able to feel things. When I work on your blood, Maga, I can feel something corrupt in you. I think you and that luxio have the same sickness."

Maga scowled. "Shut up."

"Tobi won't be able to save you on his own. You  _need_  to stick around. If not to help me, then to let me keep helping you." The memory of the braixen kept him sane on his journey, albeit it with strides filled with cruelty, but Maga was doomed to become bloodthirsty.

"Didn't mama tell you not to lie to grownups?!" Maga rolled over, pinning down the charmander. "You think I owe you because I hurt you? I can hurt you all the way!" Maga reverted to that crazy state Bleak remembered. His body became fiery, eyes bloodshot, fangs out and claws trembling around the child's neck. " _Don't make me wring you, little pest!"_

Then he sobered up, realizing he had confirmed Bleak's suspicions. He rolled off of the welder – some of his wounds opened slightly.

"I swear that I'm in control," he muttered. "I thought it was  _my_  anger. Is there… is there really something wrong with me?"

"I hope so," Bleak answered. "Or else that friend of yours is in for a rude surprise. Stay still. We've lost a lot of time."

Maga kept his eyes locked on the roof. Control. No matter how high he rose, or what he gave up, control escaped his grasp. There was no freedom.


	18. The Misstep of Two Dancers

_Hey, Lu. Tobi here. If our Pack bond is up, uh, pulse twice?_

…

_No? Okay. I still have some things to get off my chest._

_Ever since you left me, I've been wrapped up in my head. Sort of. It's hard to distract myself from all the chaos going on. Meathead's losing his lackeys over here by the minute, and he's acting like one of those types who won't be around much longer. The younger troopers look determined… the one older Punisher that stuck around looks worried to death over their excitement. I guess what I'd tell you, if you stayed, is that the situation scares me. I would like to leave now._

_But mostly, I'm surprised. I forgot about the promise we made. I stuck around to see you wait by my side, and it slipped my mind that you might lose after all this time. Lu, towards the end of our trip, I honestly thought you were invincible. The past day or so you budged more than any time before._

_Is it just time to kick me out? I know that I needed to grow up but I refused. Now, though… Lu, you're going to make a great mother. You set me out at the right time._

_Gosh._

_When was the last time I tried to act my age? There was one place that I always fought hard and made the first move. That was in my dances with Maga. I took the lead on other things back then, and that's when I lost control. I never sat down to tell you that story, Lu, probably because I'm something of an idiot. You might have heard it from someone else, but the story means nothing if you don't get it from the horse's mouth. So, in case you can catch the gist as you leave through the Pack, here's me putting it out in the open, as only I know it happened..._

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

_Two years ago_

Maga looked up at his father, and crawled back a few steps. There wasn't a mote of guilt on that mienshao's face; Willard struck him another time.

"How dare you risk everything we have earned!" The Duke shouted. "After I took you into my home, no less. You would bite the hand that fed you, provided for you, and made it so your family does not cringe upon the mention of your name!"

One moment the Duke was calmly asking him questions about the tussle in the practice room –  _what did you and Tobi do, why did Tobi hurt Gretsky, are you okay?_ The old zoroark went back to confer with Gretsky – he had separated his three children into separate rooms for conference. After he returned with claws out and eyes blazing, one question took control over Maga:  _why was the peaceful zoroark hitting him?_ Duke Willard never stooped to violence. At least, not in the chambers of his great palace in Sunstarch, his place of operations whenever summer came around. The violent acts he often espoused as 'not for the home' now dominated the chamber, as he punished Maga for his involvement.

Battered and confused, Maga couldn't defend himself against this wrath that came upon him. He wanted to argue that he had food and shelter before him – petulance. Or say, through the blood welling in his mouth, that he had no idea what he did wrong – feigning ignorance. To even remain silent – an admission of guilt. Everything turned into a crime. All the mienshao could do was put his tail between his legs. And after all the steps he took towards improving himself… his mind begged him to seize up against the awful thoughts ingrained in his head. Half-witted, he begged the Duke.

"P-Please," Maga rasped, "if you explain, I will "

The elder zoroark considered the plea. He held back a tad. Yet he made sure that his shadow cast over Maga, looming. "You are tempting Tobi at the eve of a pivotal moment in his life."

Lights flickered on in his head. "No," he insisted, "he had the idea for a shortcut – but I set him straight, Gretsky caught us at a bad-"

Another strike. Maga went rolling across the stone floor and straight into the wall. The smack of his back against the wall made little noise. The brazier overhead flickered, blurry to the mienshao after the blow. Perhaps, as Maga desired in his darker hopes, Duke Willard's outburst belied the worsening of his long-standing illness. Sudden fits or losses of strength happened often enough for the Duke to bring in private psychics, who lost themselves in the mystery of his condition. Bursts of strengths to match the fits was new. Maga pledged to alert the psychics.

At the moment, there was no opening for escape. "Liar!" Duke Willard shouted. "I know the dishonor you have transcended by raising your station. It was a feat, that is undeniable, but such achievement comes ready with the fear of losing it. Your jealousy spurred you to sway Tobi's head."

"I… I don't know..."

"Tobi is the better half of your duo, and you know it."

A chill so cold swept the room, the brazier was almost snuffed by its wind. A dour note crept into the mienshao's voice.

"…What did you say?"

Duke Willard let out an uncharacteristic chuckle. It came out like an over-poured drink – pushing over the brim, unable to be helped. "You would pretend to not know? He is thrice liked by the other Dukes and Punishers who visit our home. When we travel, his senses outdo your own, and he's far more learned than you in history and other scholarly subjects. And in terms of grace and speed, well… there is a reason your instructor offers the newest routines to him first."

Tobi tutored him in his studies so they could get to practice faster. The rest of things, too, were true; as much as the braixen complained before about Punishers, he adopted their culture in the blink of an eye. Within a year, the Atlasans treated him as the champion of Entei Willard proclaimed him to be. "Clarity tells him first," he argued feebly, "because he needs time for the fire, so he can beg… b-begin..."

"As in, he is the one who leads?" The Duke mocked. He took great enjoyment in watching Maga squirm. It dealt more damage to the mienshao's ego. "Listen, it's okay to be outclassed by a close friend. Tempranillo has no problems with my being president over Orchidia, while he slurps whine and deals with that chronic stench, his stolthet. And you do have Tobi beat on a few occasions."

"I do?!" Maga asked excitedly. He rose up this feet."

"Of course. You surpass him in endurance, after years of abuse. And your studies of the martial arts, I think, has advanced further than his." The zoroark paused to think. "Hm… here is my decision about this matter: instead of trying to woo him, I will give you a single opportunity to put him in his place. I cannot tell you what or when it is, for that would give you time to doubt, but I swear it shall be a thousand times more honorable than your current plans."

Wooing? As in being friendly? Maga couldn't puzzle out what his 'old plan' entailed. But the shamed creature nodded to his father, appreciating the plan for what it meant: an end to the beating. And, in those eyes, he saw intent. Surely, Duke Willard wanted him to be at his best.

"Yes, father," he said.

He received a pat on the back. "Good. Now go wash off – you have a performance tonight!"

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

Tobi looked over the small group that composed their audience, looking more nervous than excited as he identified their guests. Maga himself couldn't help but squirm, for entirely different reasons. They stood a step outside of the Granite Hall, the first floor of Sunstarch's towering palace of a similar name: the Granite Tower. Waiting for them around a makeshift stage in the hallow hall's center, were the various other Dukes of Orchidia, tailed by several of their aides and acquaintances. They shared the same title yet Willard dwarfed them in control; decades of cautious politics put him on an inevitable rise to the top. An air of tension held over the Granite Hall.

Maga recognized all of the dukes, and a few of the friends. Duke Sarisota sulked among the equally depressing candor of his two sableye aides. He was of a breed named malamar, a creature thought long-gone to the cultured worlds. The first sight of the bladed, gelatinous Sent sent Maga on edge. But Sarisota was nice. Hated long conversations and preferred to solve logic puzzles in the confines of his chambers but, overall, nice.

Duke Penny was there. A heavyset skuntank, passionate about the fight regardless of the odds… or who made up what side. Maga knew that Tobi liked her the least; she embodied much of the headstrong Atlasan culture that the dainty fox tried to dance around. And, of course, Tobi never missed a bath after a visit to the fuming creature.

Yet the one that caught his eye the most, among those lower Dukes, was Duke Brazen. Best friend to Duke Willard.

The ninetales, who did outdid even Tobi in terms of balance and poisde, took responsibility for being Willard's most trusted adviser, much to the chagrin of the other Dukes: one day three years ago, the ninetales popped into existence, solving disputes from outside the ring of Orchidian diplomacy. From a non-item to the second-most powerful Sent, in three years. That was enough to earn Maga's respect thrive over. For Tobi, it all took second-place to Brazen himsef. The braixen was absolutely infatuated with everything the Duke said or did. To Tobi's disappointment, Willard hadn't invited Brazen over for council in a long time, nor did he rabble on about their stories together – Maga assumed they had a falling out.

For his own admiration, Maga looked towards Hellingly, leader of the Wayfarers. A mighty pidgeot who started as a roving hunter-gatherer. There were rumors, even, that he spent years of his life in captivity, fighting for his life in some Prowlse arena. The enigma sat next to Brazen, inspecting his wing, looking bored.

"I had no idea we'd be performing for the other Dukes tonight," Tobi said, "This is the kind of surprise that gets me all jittery." Considering the interruption to their practice, Tobi had a positive air about him. It was obvious that they received different levels of chastisement. "Sheesh," he said, inspecting Maga, "you look like a wreck. Are you worried about the finale of our routine?"

Maga replied with a dreary nod. "You could say that..."

"Well, that just makes it exciting! I refuse to mess up in front of the Dukes – seriously, are you okay?"

"I, uh… can I ask you something?"

The braixen's smile fell and his tail stopped wagging. "No," he said. Then it was back. "Just kidding! What's up?"

He came out with it: "do you think I'm stupid?"

The answer came quickly. "Of course not. You're a bit slow but that's okay. We Sents live long lives. No one keeps track of how long it takes to get a grasp on something."

All Maga heard was that first part. A bit  _slow_? Was the braixen condescending to him?

Duke Willard called from the hall. His sickly rasp was back, maybe stronger due to his yelling. Maga shook his head loose of any thoughts besides the performance. No more time for that sort of stuff. Father relied on their best performance.

The pair stepped out from the hallway and ducked under the ropes of the stage. Tobi, who had drawn his wand out from his tail fur, stood ready on the opposite end. The braixen smiled at him in a way that almost dredged up distracting guilt. Clarity, standing by Willard's side, gave them a reassuring smile. When his partner nodded to him, he nodded back. Hellingly stopped preening himself as the performance began.

 _To Work Against Colossal Things._  The steps came to be after Willard requested that Clarity make a dance with his own message. He wanted to show the tedium that the commanders suffered in ordering their troops. Tobi swung his wand lazily, almost as if out of step, while Maga put his best into dancing around the center. Spins, flips, rotations, the dance held the most complicated combinations of the three Maga had seen yet – Fire came close to licking his mouth, his ears, his eyes, but he refused to stop in anticipation of being burned. Among everything, he trusted Tobi to entrust only what he could handle. He missed a step that no one but they could notice; the thought of it tripped him up.

There was no time to worry, however. The next step of the song represented the commander's desire to intervene, to share the risks of battle with his subordinates. Every time Tobi surged forward, ready to pounce into the routine, he fell back. Even Duke Penny, not one for the arts, felt the flames get stronger as Tobi vented his frustrations as an important commander. The flames seized their minds, taking them to a place a step beyond what their eyes could normally see. The smell of flames and the sight of flurried movement thrusted them into the scene of a battle – a sensation any Duke knew well. If it hadn't been for their previous performances, the pair's sudden intensity would draw noises from the small audience as they debated on what was and what was not.

Then, just before one of the aides leaped in to put out the fires, they reached the crescendo, the end-piece. The first step went smoothly – or violently, in truth, as Maga cried out and slammed his paw into the ground. Embers flew up. As the mienshao looked up from his handiwork, panting, he saw the way Tobi entered the dance.

He leaped into the air, higher than Maga thought possible for the braixen. It had to be a practiced move. As he spun through the space above Maga, he weaved together the intricate pattern of the embers. From a leap.

Heat rushed through Maga. The envy had subsided for this one moment, the moment he recalled how this amazing dancer pulled him close. Maga remembered the promises they made each other, for that second. For one moment, it was their time to go beyond entei and suicune.

In that second, or even half-second, the audience witnessed an explosion. Several of the aides scrabbled away with guttural, animal howls. Flightly flung a wing up over his eyes, and the other Dukes sought to protect themselves.

Maga gathered that explosive burst into his tassels. He spun and spun, forming a column of flame. The power of the promise a commander makes to his troops. At first it seemed like he could spin forever, a flame-fountain for the Granite Hall. Then it began to sting. Tobi saw his pain somehow and, with a swipe of his wand, quelled the fire.

Those in the hall sat in silence, even the dancers. Clarity hadn't planned for the finale to be so explosive – it was potentially dangerous to those closest to the ropes.

Maga met the braixen's eyes. They became locked in place. Tobi opened his mouth one, two, three times in attempt to ask  _are you okay?_  The mienshao felt warm, and not from the flames. He was lucky to have such an amazing Sent at his side. Whatever he did to deserve Tobi or what he had that Tobi needed, he realized all of a sudden, couldn't have been anything besides pure good luck. Out of all of the success, that turned out to be  _true_  fortune. And he was beginning to understand what the braixen meant earlier that day.

Before either of them could speak, the Dukes recovered and voiced their opinions.

" _A-aa-rceus!_ " Duke Penny shouted. "If that wasn't the craziest shit I've seen in a while!"

"I'd have liked a warning," Hellingly complained.

Brazen smiled. "Look at them, they enjoyed themselves."

"Right," the Wayfarer replied. "I found myself relating to their motions, as the commander of the Wayfarers. Am I right to feel so?" Clarity nodded.

Sasarita gave them both a studious raise of his bladed tendrils. "Yes, the movement of a Sent coveys their story. How one moves is as important as their scent and voice."

"Hey penguin-worm, you insulting me?" Penny asked. "Talkin' bout scents."

The malamar seemed distressed, yet experienced when it came to calming the skuntank. "No, even a foul scent can speak of a great Sent-"

" _Foul_ , huh? I ought to come over and leave some  _parfum des champions_ all over you and your downer buddies!" Penny's aides, a koffing and a zubat, postured alongside their boss.

The sableye backed up without a word. So did their Duke.

"Fate must have better plans for me," he pleaded.

Once the conversation paused for laughter, Clarity ran into the ring, dragging the two dancers together for a group huddle.

"My wonderful dancers, you've taken a new step. That last move – it was incredible! We can start to unfold our own innovation – from here, I cannot say where we might end up if we continue-"

"Clarity," Duke Willard interrupted. The chatting audience ended their chats and gave the zoroark their full attention. Out of everyone, he was the only one who looked disappointed. Had the explosion misrepresented his message?

The instructor gave him a smile. "Yes, Willard? Is something amiss?"

Duke Willard gave a polite nod. "Please step out of the ring." The dance was over. Everyone watched on in confusion as the zoroark forced Clarity away from her students. Another pause filled the room as they waited for a command to fall upon the two dancers. Maga and Tobi looked at one another. Tobi shrugged. Finally, Willard gave his command.

"Now you fight."

No one could find the words, ba glowering air took over Duke Brazen and Duke Penny chortled, albeit accompanied with an unsure smile.

Tobi was the first to speak. "What?" He asked.

"Fight. Not just a sparring match like in your classes," he added.. "Till one of you goes unconscious." The order made Tobi's ears fall. Maga himself felt an awful twisting in his stomach.

"I must object!" Duke Brazen cried. "Willard, what do you hope to accomplish through this? No good will come from combat between these two. You must know this..."

Sasarita joined in where the ninetales stopped. "This is an insult to their unique performance. Any two Atlasans could fight in the Granite Hall."

Even Penny, who loved a good scrap, relented. "Maybe not here," she admitted begrudgingly. "Like, they seem really close."

Instead of taking umbrage at the protests, Duke Willard began to give that overflowing chuckle – the one he gave to Maga. It was why Brazen quit trying to convince him; some intent took over the zoroark's mind. "Dukes of Orchidia," he called, "if you doubt my esteemed wisdom in running this nation, feel free to stop them... or leave. I myself will be here until one of my dancers has fallen." A decision: stay and still be a Duke come tomorrow, or leave and face the wrath of the head Duke.

A thought occurred to Maga amidst the tension. It abolished all of the great sensations he felt in the dance:

_This was it! It was his chance to put himself on Tobi's level!_

Tobi turned away from the mienshao to address their father. "Well, looks like we'll all be waiting forever and ever!" He said – so proud, so happy, so excited. Tobi realized something too. Whatever that realization clarified for him, it was a trap. "Maga and I won't ever fight – and that's not because of some peace-loving thing about Orchidia and Atlas. Him and I, we lo-"

Maga jumped forward and punched Tobi in the back of the head.

A gasp came. Then that usual silence rebounded. For a moment, Maga had to lift up his paw and stare – that numbing feeling… did that just come from hitting Tobi? He saw his partner laying against the cold stone, struggling to come to terms with what happened. No. Maga told himself that it was a good, clean way to make Tobi respect him. He'd make sure his partner knew what he gave to their relationship – and along the way, discover for himself what that was.

Duke Brazen spoke out to him. "Whatever he told you, I can tell you it's a misdirection. Stop this before it begins, please." Maga couldn't hear a word over the blood rushing through his head.

Before ideas spread that the single blow had knocked out the braixen, the trembling fox got back up to his feet. The look on his face, it went from triumphant to… to heart-broken. All that pep and confidence snapped in a moment. Maga saw Tobi as he did when the first met: no confidence, a lapdog.

"M-M-Maga?" Tobi asked. "You were supposed to say no. W-W-Willard said you'd say no too..."

Lost in desperation and fury, the Maga had no mind to consider the possibilities. "Damn it, father, I didn't need a surprise attack to win!" He roared. He rushed froward again. Tobi took the blow without trying to escape. Clarity cried and ran from the hall.

"You think you inspire everything in me, don't you?!" Maga yelled, leaping onto the downed braixen. "That you're so much better you can throw unplanned tricks into our routines to inspire me. We are equals.  _Equals!_ "

"Ma-aa-ga!" Tobi wailed, taking another blow to the head. Maga took his tassel and used it to strangle the braixen.

Duke Sasarita hailed the head Duke. "I will take my chances," he said. "I am not the traitor you seek, it seems. I see who your eyes fall upon, Duke Willard."

"Hell, if he ain't, neither am I," Penny said. "I'm out." The two motioned to their aides and walked towards the wide doors of the Granite Tower.

Maga chose to stop the strangling and return to punching. He wanted to do both, the frenzy was just too much. If he stopped for a moment, a cascade of emotions would stop him. This far in, two options remained:  _do or die._  Tobi's entire body trembled in fear. Maga swung again.

Something took the brunt of his blow as it descended. Maga looked down to see one of Tobi's arm free, in the process of deflecting the blow. A clean reversal. The mienshao lost all balance atop Tobi. His partner shrugged him off easily.

The sudden reversal confused him. Willard said it himself: he surpassed Tobi in combat. It had to be luck…

He saw Tobi's face. Full to the brim with agony. More broken, somehow, than before. The braixen of four years ago fell away, revealing something further under the surface. Despite the strikes to his head, he stood tall and walked forward.

Guilt would put doubt into his strikes. Maga charged at the advancing braixen. It would be easier on them both if it was a real fight.

But it wasn't a real fight. Again, again…

Tobi ducked under a high swing and brought his wand to Maga's side. The small burst of fire was uncontrolled, unlike that in their dances. The mienshao stepped back a few steps, then spun forward with a martial art of his own – a spinning punch that used his spirit to reach higher speeds than normally possible.

The braixen flowed around the move and kicked him in the back. It was weaker than he could kick, but the discrepancy meant nothing; Maga went sailing down to the ground.

Of course. Tobi led the dances. He knew how Maga moved – and, as Sarasita said… his movement was as important as his scent or voice. Something smacked into him, then laid to rest on his back. Tobi's wand. With a motion of his arms, and some concentration of spirit, the dancer summoned flames into the remote twig. Maga roared and tried to scrabble out.

The strike went on for almost half a minute before Tobi changed tactics. He leaped onto the dazed mienshao, pummeling without restraint.

" _How could you?!"_  He screamed. " _How could you, you were better, you were supposed to say no!_ " Maga tensed up and focused on staying awake until an opening came.

If he lost now…

He gave up their friendship for nothing.

Black objects appeared in his corners of his eyes.

" _Why'd you do that, Maga? Why'd you go and make us fight?!"_ Slam. Slam. Slam.

It hurt. Maga wondered if he could skip fainting and just die.

Then, suddenly, the brutalizing ceased. Maga's head rung, hardly able to hear Duke Willard over that or Tobi's protests.

"Ah," father said. "As I thought."

Duke Brazen pinned the braixen down. When he tried to escape with flames, the ninetails smothered them with his own. After a moment, Tobi surrendered himself and began to sob.

"Happy now?" He asked.

"You inexorable bastard. I knew you were a traitor.."

Hellingly appeared next to the zoroark, a sharp beak pointed at the Duke's throat. "Yes, the ones you made us into. Summon any guards and I'll end you right here and now." The guards had been dismissed for the performance. Now they had been dismissed for its sickening after-show. "Time for you to go, Brazen. Let me handle my own escape."

The ninetales set down Tobi. "I am so sorry, young ones," Maga heard him whisper. "Stay strong. I will do my best to come back." Then he was gone, his footfalls making no noise as he escaped.

"Are you  _threatening_  me?!" The zoroark screamed, after building up the courage. "I am head Duke, my word is law, I get to make up the plans!"

"Shut up. How does one so wizened grow into a child..."

Maga wished the ninetales placed Tobi away from him. The braixen wailed, pounding the ground and burying his eyes in his arms and the cold stone of the tower.  _No_ , he shouted again and again,  _why_ , he put in between….

It was all he had left to turn over before fainting.

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

They were in march. Judging from what the braixen could hear last night, they headed right towards that rebel encampment – Cherry Blossom Outpost. Tobi expected Allworthy to schlep him onto the Bonecrusher's troop. Instead, the herdier just started rambling about some great conscpiracy.  _Finish what he started_ , and other such phrases, came in and out of the conversation. At the end of the winding talk, a question:

"I know you owe us nothing," the commander said, "but would you mind helping us take him on?"

"What? You mean the Bonecrusher?" Tobi asked. He crossed his arms and licked his chops. "I mean, it's pretty humbling to be invited to your showdown..."

"I saw you change when you threw that punch at your friend Lu," Allworthy replied. "Whatever you have, I want it on my side. Feel free to run if things get hairy. That's the plan for the rest of my hooligans." The Punishers took little interest in the prince. They all worried about the pink forest looming in the distance – light punk cropped out from white, like a destination marked on a map in ink.

Tobi looked at the outpost with them. Already, the rhydon's troop closed in on the place, spots in the distance.

He smiled. "Lu might be there. I gotta give her a firm shakedown for leaving me, anyway… might as well warm up first!

Allworthy returned the smile. "Glad to hear it." The march became silent again. Tobi turned his gaze back to the snow crunching under his feet.

 _Sorry about that, Lu. The Meathead needed to be neurotic for a moment._  I'm back now.

_Back then… I was too young to understand back then. I thought, hey, once I change, it's permanent. So when it came to that moment, Lu, it felt as thought I'd lost Maga forever – to some stupid envy Willard instilled into him. Maga chased the respect of his several fathers, till it became an obsession not even I knew he had. Back then, I thought Willard 'broke' him, you know?_

_Lu, if it were you, I just know you would have kept going._

_Me, though? Maga and I were in our room, opposite sides. He really wanted to make it up to me._

" _Wait here, I'll go snatch a music-player." That's what he said. "We can just dance for fun."_

_Yeah, right. If Willard riled him up, he'd be back at my throat. The one who mattered most to me was at the beck and call of another. And under Willard's control, there could be no escape. The Granite Tower is a tall place overlooking the ocean. It has a light to guide ships home to Sunstach. Our room was high enough._

_I wonder how long it took him. He probably scoured the floor till he saw the window open, looked over the sill and saw… the way the Punishers talk about Maga's grand escape – that he leaped from his cell and lived? Yeah, he got that move from me. The wind pushes you out over the water, too far from the rocks. Uh, far enough in his case… do you see what I'm getting at, here?_

_A-Anyway, Lu, I got moved to a side-room on the bottom floor. Willard told me that Maga was besides himself and chose to visit the private psychics who live with us, in the tower's dungeon. Then he forced me to schedule an appointment, for obvious reasons. But my wits kicked in. I knew, with all of my heart, that if I descended into that basement for 'remediation', I would just… forget. Even if it hurt, or drove me to harm, I refused to let the the good go out with the bad. I'd rather die with the memory of that one, warm hug._

_Even if I had some drive back, I could do nothing until you came in. Lu, Brazen sent you, right? You drove off those crazy types real fast. I was so happy to avoid my 'treatment,' I started crying. And you started petting me and comforting me, down in that hollow dungeon._

_But you were crying, too._

_That possessed umbreon the psychics led around for self-defense. I knew she was a Wayfarer or something yet it never clicked. I realized earlier today that it was the friend you talked about – the one you had to kill, but discovered later on it was the right thing to do. Arceus, Lu… you were talking about me, right? Am I really the reason you could forgive yourself? You saw something in me. Enough to make you feel better. I always thought that power belonged to you alone. But if you insist, I can try. No. I'll do it this time. I'll – Lu?!_

The Pack flared up, for the first time since he threw the journal. Lost in thought, he completely missed their destination. He stopped, taking in the noises and smells of dozens of Sents. The Bonecrusher's troop was going absolutely rabid, ready to spill blood in the name of their commander. Somehow, the dead molt of their Pack made returned to life. Perhaps, Tobi hoped, Lu was thinking of him, too, reviving the Pack bond throughs sheer will.

"What the hell are those Roaken doing?" Fol asked. "They should have left. Now they're pretty much boned."

Allworthy shook his head. "That smart lucario knew there would be fighting among the troops. Even leading a bunch of geeks, the chaos is enough for a mighty solid plan. I just hope she ain't shooting for you," he said, addressing the braixen.

A pulse came back along the Pack. It was still weak, yet the message came across fine:  _get over here_ , it said. Across the distance, Tobi saw her: corralling and nudging the rebels into a decent crowd. Parenting, like usual. Tobi smiled and waved. She spotted him and waved back.

 _Just a moment_ , she signaled. Joy took over the braixen.

"Hey!" Frig cried. "T-They're advancing, we're about to f-f-fight!"

Allworthy cuffed the linoone. "Relax. The 'crusher wants to pelaver. See? Lu knows." She stopped shepherding the Roaken and started towards the rhydon. And you two won't be doing much fighting – come close and listen. We're gonna turn their fervor for battle against them." They huddled up, conferring.

Basil came up to the braixen's side. How a massive beast managed to weave back into the ranks eluded the braixen. One moment she was out, and the next she was caught up. "I think my den sibling Bleak's in that pink flower-forest place," she said. "He's caused a lot of trouble with the welding stuff. I think I'll give him a stern talking to."

"Good idea," Tobi said, surprised. This zangoose was the welding kid's sibling? It was funny sometimes, how life worked. "My own mark's right over there," he said, pointing. "But… if I'm lucky..." Maga would be with that charmander. All he came to know in the span of two years, started to come together. Now was the moment to stand on his own two legs.

"Okay," Allworthy called out. The twin linoone burrowed into the snow and scrambled away, off to carry out their commander's orders. "I'm heading over to talk- is that what I think it is" He asked suddenly. Tobi tore off the old bandages around his leg. "Ha, there went my expectations," he said.

The smell of stolthet, just like his father's, enveloped Tobi. He stood back up, leaving the wrappings in the snow.

"I'm coming with you," the dancer said.

* * *

**For those wanting to keep track, this acts as the conclusion to both "Maga's Dance" and "Tobi's Cry". With all the flashbacks concluded, a great battle approaches!**


	19. High Noon

The blizzard of last night had torn away the blossoms at the fringe of the outpost. Scattered across the expanse, the pink flowers looked like veins running through the snow.

The Roaken remained silent, save for an uncomfortable clambering as the few members of Allworthy's troops joined their ranks. They resented the new Punishers in their midst, but couldn't deny the extra help from the rogue troop – especially that of one gargantuan zangoose. Each defender hoped for some alternative to battling the monstrous force across the way. The Bonecrusher's Punishers approached a steady roar of anticipation, where their rage united their cry and fur, scale and feathers clumped together through bloodlust. A foul force congealed over the field like a wave of black tar, and the inexperienced Roaken knew they would drown easily if it came to a straight battle.

The largest Sent in the mix, Basil, bent over to speak with I.E. "Hey," she whispered, though not very quietly.

A small jolt snapped I.E back to his senses. How long had it been since he fought? Ages. And blind? Never before. All the rumors about 'hearing' incoming blows and sniffing out danger proved to be dangerous lies. "W-what, Punisher?" He asked.

"Do you have a little char in your camp? He's my sibling."

"A little char – oh." As far as gut feelings went, Basil sounded innocent enough for a straight answer. "Yes, he's working on a… an asset. Can you hush, though? Tell your friends to look… w-where are you headed?"

The zangoose rose up to her full height and walked away. Several Roaken, and even her comrades, expressed their confusion. She took her reassuring presence out of the crowd. "Thanks. Be back before the battling starts. Just need to make a quick check. He's little, ain't suited to be out here alone."

"Hey," Sans cried after her. "Where the heck is Nasfereet?!" The zangoose waved back in reply.

A krookodile at I.E's side let out a dreadful moan. "Oh. Excellent work, commander. Now we got one rummaging through our camp."

If that Roaken wasn't the only healer left in camp, I.E would've trounced him, just to break the tension hanging over them all. "Shut up, Leopold," he said instead. "Nothing's gonna happen for awhile."

"Lu's a convincing force," Sobre said. The sandshrew inched forward. "Why, look at where we are standing! If anyone can convince the Bonecrusher to leave, it would be her. But, wait," he added, peering out. He let loose a moan like Leopold's. "Oh, for crying out loud. Why would, who let... that infernal braixen is nearing as well! We are all but insured to be reduced to marrow by sundown."

"Hush!" Fol stamped her front hooves. "Listen closely, you'll hear them talking. Then we can really get an idea of our fates."

Sure enough, the Roaken pricked their ears and could hear Tobi's voice. Something happened during his time in captivity: Sobre noticed a new sort of silkiness in the prince's voice. Sophistication tied to purpose.

"Hey Lu," Tobi said, giving her a brief nod.

"Hiya." Lu pretended to take sudden interest in some snow.

The braixen turned up to hulking behemoth known as the Bonecrusher. He tried to give off a confident air, yet still poised to leap away from any uninvited attacks.

"Believe it or not, everyone," he said, "this isn't how I planned to spend my morning."

The rhydon snorted. "Ha. You ought to take a stroll, then. Before you experience something… really unique."

"Watch out!" He cried, suddenly panicked. Many Sents checked their flanks for an ambush. "Bonecrusher's planning to do some addition!" Neither side found it very funny. The attitude of the Punisher force worsened. It became fouler by the second – uninhibited, it would come to the point where their commander's orders might fail to restrain them.

Allworthy considered the time for banter gone. No doubt Armstrong wanted his force to frenzy. It was a free excuse while his 'mutinous' troop received the brunt of the punishment. "Look, Armstrong. Seniority or not, we're on par when it comes to rank. So I'm telling you right now: if your plan involves anything but I.E's arraignment, it ain't any plan of mine. And if you try to bounce over me on this, I'll send whatever influence my family still has upon you. Years of ingratiating the right Dukes… your life will be hell."

The Bonecrusher grinned, his two great fangs gleamed. "I got political too, old friend." The herdier scoffed hatefully. "Don't believe me? Well – I think I might do Atlas a favor, wipe your troop off the map. It's only fair, after you committed treason by attacking my messengers. You were so angry to hear that I was stealing your one opportunity to redeem your honor, that you killed a poor Sent – oh, and crippled another. That honest diggersby deserved none-"

"No, no," Lu insisted. "That wasn't Allworthy! it was this kid who didn't know any better..." the others kept their eyes on her till she realized. "Oh. You're lying. You just want a reason to fight." Allworthy stooped down. His muzzle twitched as he fought the urge to snarl. He created a demon. A demon so vicious, it educated itself in order to spread its harm.

"Attagirl," the Bonecrusher said. "I bear no ill will towards the Wayfarers. I'd extend my offer to walk away, though I doubt you would take it." Lu shook her head. He smiled. "At...ta...girl," he breathed. The thought of Girrup slaughtering such a prominent beast aroused his own need to kill. He hoped the scizor would find her in the massacre about to proceed. "Alright. Everyone, at-"

"Coward's way out," Tobi said.

The rhydon reared his head back desperately, to pull in the force he almost set loose. "Pardon me, prince, er, Tobi?"

The braixen feigned a smile and paced around the Bonecrusher. "Any Atlasan worth their weight hates a happy ending. Sure, you could decimate everything in your way… but don't you miss the challenge, pal? Here you have one good scrap for you, then one for your right-hand. If Girrups's alive in that mess you brought along, of course."

"I am!" The scizor screeched. He fell out of rank, scrambling towards them. "I want at that bitch!" He pointed at the lucario. She gaped, not appreciating the name-calling. Nor the fact that the right-hand, pummeled just hours before, seemed to be strengthened by the injuries. The madness of the creature offended Lu's senses, making her back away a few steps. "Come on, Bonecrusher. Us two… you against Allworthy, and me, ah... against the cheater."

The Bonecrusher became pensive in the face of a promising offer.

"Hm," he mused. "Yes, what a great plan."

Tobi smiled. "Well, that's go-"

A loud, bemused roar interrupted the braixen. "Just kidding! I can't be arsed about honor at this junction. Once I kill that mightyena, I've got a far better reward in store. Now, Punishers! Go get your…" the monstrosity jolted and looked down at the braixen holding one of his massive claws. "You sure that's a good plan?" He growled. "Let go of me."

"Arceus, please," Tobi begged. "I have been led astray for so long. I miss my father. I miss my Atlasan life. I've even fallen so far as to beg, yet… your strength is the last thing I feel passion towards. Your strength, Bonecrusher… it makes me believe in the tenants again. All the lies this Wayfarer told me, all the weakness these roving Punishers have shown me! Won't you prove yourself the greater force, then take me home?" The Bonecrusher tried to retreat, but Tobi followed on lighter feet. "Why, under your guidance who knows what could happen. I might even find my will to dance again. Think about that."

"Y… you were always a good dancer," the rhydon replied. "Gah, fuck it!" He hollered. "You wanna see me crush this old hound's bones?"

"Nothing would make me happier!" Tobi lied. He'd be happier to see the exact opposite happen. He hoped that he didn't just send both Allworthy and Lu to their deaths. But wasting time was their only option.

And the herdier seemed ready to take on the burden of wasting it. He left their small conference and put some space between himself and the gigantic Sent. "Sounds like a plan. You good on keeping that bug at bay, Lu?"

"I think so" she answered. "Just don't expect to see me win." If Girrup came anywhere close to killing the lucario, Tobi would intervene in a heartbeat, the ramifications be damned. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that – for now, he would keep an eye out for nasty plots from the enemy.

"Listen up, everyone," Lu called out to the Roaken. "We're going to settle this with a couple duels. Don't interrupt us, no matter what happens!" They disliked the idea of leaving their fate in the hands of brutish fighting, but at the same time knew it was a better end to the negotiation than many of them predicted. A good battle might open the sated Punisher up to more negotiations.

The Bonecrusher and Allworthy refused to move away from one another – neither wanted to concede that the other posed a threat. None of the Sents there ever saw the herdier in a scrap. On size alone, he already lost. Even the frenzied Punishers watched them in peace.

Girrup chuckled to himself and squared off against the lucario. "Well, girly. There isn't an orb in sight. You shouldn't have shamed me. No, no, I never planned to really kill you then. You and I are commander material, if you just played fair… grr, imagine what we might accomplish if you weren't so stupid!"

Lu lifted her paws, spikes facing out. "I did, and they aren't accomplishments."

The scizor snapped, launching a vine as his first attack

Thunderous stomps drowned out the noise of the vine flying out from Girrups claw. The Bonecrusher took the chance to start in tandem with his right-hand, gaining a few steps while Allworthy left himself unguarded. Never before had the rhydon's troop seen him set out with such vigor; he either wanted to finish quickly, or feared what the herdier might do with ample time.

He slid across the snow, a giant arm flying upwards in an attempt to cleave his enemy. Snow exploded from the spot as he dragged his hand across, and smacked Tobi square between the eyes. He fell back, wiping away, yet still missed how Allworthy managed to survive the vicious attack.

He flanked the Bonecrusher and leaped up to his neck, digging his fangs into the rhydon's hide. Fast, so blindingly fast; in an instant the monster was turned around into a fall, determined to crush the nuisance chewing on his back.

Allworthy flew out from his spot on the back, opting instead to claw at the stomach. The Bonecrusher laughed, entertained by the attempt. Unbeknownst to the faster attacker, he had a claw poised to clutch around the herdier's midsection the moment he tried to change positions. Allworthy wheezed, the hand clutching his chest starting on a steady squeeze.

"Beat-hunter, Allworthy?" He asked. Tobi knew that style – it was used to wear down Greatbeasts by making them bleed out through small wounds. Based on the situation, it was a noble approach. "I'm no Greatbeast. I know your moves."

"You rotten bastard, you're rungs under me!" The only indication of an explosion was a waviness in the sunlight around the commander. Then, as if by magic, the Bonecrusher's hand was shredded apart. Hidden power, a staple art for any fighter. To try a hold on an opponent who was still capable of releasing enough energy to cause harm – the Bonecrusher had made a grave mistake. His right claw was shredded, bloodied, out of commission.

Tobi was heartened by the small victory, yet the moment he turned to Lu's fight his heart jumped into his throat. He realized one moment that the Roaken were crying out instead of cheering, and whipped around to see Girrup attempting to gouge Lu's ear with a pincer. The move came as a blur, Tobi started to move forward but it was too late.

The relief Tobi felt when Lu rolled out of the way staggered him. She earned both her survival, along with much-needed time to think. Her tail drooped, her ears flopped down – she gave up long ago on the notion of a counterattack.

"What's wrong?" Girrup said. "Tired?" Compared to the few moves in the other duel, Lu's own plight seemed endless.

"No," she replied anyway. "I've been through worse than you."

"Nope, nope, nope! You haven't."

Tobi was confounded. How had the scizor improved so much in the span of a few hours? Girrup bounded forward, smacking the lucario in the head. She managed to recover enough to dodge the next dozen or so strikes. But one strike came through, more serious than the playful ones before it. It turned around the lucario and sent her spilling onto the ground.

Then, with a victorious cry, he stabbed into her back. Blood welled up around the crimson pincer. He released his victim, allowing her to crawl a few feet away. Then he caught up, straddled her – he prepared a pincer to enter through her neck and end her life. Allworthy risked a glance, nearly throwing his own life away in the process.

Tobi tried to intervene. A vine flew at his head. It created a barrier between the braixen and his friend.

"No, I don't think so," Girrup chastised. "Move an inch, I dare you."

"Lu, get up!" he cried. "I'll distract him, you just-"

"No!" Lu called back. She rolled onto her back, pushing herself back with her legs. Her killer allowed it, amused by her strugglers. "Don't…."

"What chance?!" He lost faith. There was no plan, no turnaround. This bloody battle in the snow; that was all they had left, and now even that started to crumble. "He's g-gonna kill you!"

Girrup pressed against her neck. "If you interrupt, we won't have a chance… those Roaken are out here because they trust me. I''ll die before I betray that trust!"

The scizor scoffed. "You think dying will help? All you'll do is rot, idiot! But it's a wish I can offer, so you may have it!" The final blow raised into the air. It reflected the sun overhead.

An explosive energy erupted in the middle of their arena. Both sides knew it wasn't from Lu, nor another burst from Allworthy. In fact, the other two fighters stopped in their tracks, knowing right away that the duel had been interrupted. Tobi, though, and anyone else expected to help, sat dumbfounded on the sidelines.

As for the victim of the blast, he threw a fit. Dark energy steamed from his back as he writhed and pounded – once again, he had been denied his ultimate prize.

Nasfereet shrugged off his hempen jacket and extended a claw to Lu.

"I disagree," he said. "Back then at Whitestone, we had no chance without you, or that stubbornness of yours. Renouncing my membership in the Wayfarers of the Storm, just to save a scrap of honor with Atlas… I never understood that policy of going against the mold… till I saw a certain bastard grapple with his own." He nodded to the herdier. "I abandoned my friends because they wanted to do the impossible. I won't leave another friend behind. Not a single one more!" Lu gripped his claw and struggled to her feet.

Allworthy chuckled. "You were a Wayfarer? Ha! You sneaky weasel."

The banter was cut short when a stench blanketed the field. It was awful. Cloying. Girrup surged back up to his feet, strong as ever. "You bastards never learn. I g-g-get to kill two Wayfarers now," he screeched, "instead of one! I'm so h-h-h...HAPPY!"

"I consider this an interruption, Allworthy," the Bonecrusher told him in between the ranting. "Pull your right-hand out of the fight. Inspiring as it was, she's dead either way."

The lucario was too distracted by the smell of the air to disagree. "Whazzat?" She asked, suddenly energetic. "Oh no. I know that smell."

Girrup's entire countenance changed. His voice boomed in the clearing. "THE SMELL OF YOUR BLOOD FLOWING IS WHAT IT IS. OR IS IT MY STRENGTH THAT MAKES YOU SCARED. I AM SO, SO STRONG. ONCE UPON A TIME BLOOD MADE ME SICK.

"I WAS A GARDENER AFRAID OF BLOOD.

"BUT THERE'S SO MUCH OF IT AROUND, HUH. THE BONECRUSHER SHOWED ME HOW MUCH MY VILLAGE WANTED TO BLEED, IF THEY WANTED TO LIVE THEY SHOULD HAVE NEVER COMPLAINED ABOUT THE PUNISHMENTS.

"SO MUCH OF IT TO SMEAR INTO THE GROUND, HUH.

"DID YOU KNOW A SENT'S BLOOD HELPS FLOWERS GROW. IN FACT BLOODY BATTLES ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR MOST OF THE BEAUTY SEEN IN ORCHIDIA. ANYTHING THAT CAN HELP NATURE SO MUCH, IT'S EASY TO BECOME ATTACHED, TO FANTASIZE OF IT. YOUR BLOOD IS MORE VALUABLE OUTSIDE OF YOU.

"THIS ENTIRE WORLD WANTS TO BLEED AND I'LL HELP IT MAKE ORCHIDIA THE PRETTIEST PLACE!"

Tobi felt a heat grow in his head. His stolthet, which was ignorable before, flared up. An instinct kicked in – he wanted to destroy Girrup. The desire filled him with a sort of sadness – mixed with sheer tregnth.

Lu was feeling it as well, far more than the braixen. "Girrup… I'm so sorry it came to this.. I'll end it quick, I promise."

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT I AM INVINCIBLE. I AM GIRRUP THE GARDENER- eh?" The booming voice became a tiny squeak as she started to close in. A remnant that confirmed the presence of a meek gardener in the midst of all that rage. The wound in her back couldn't impede her charge. "WAIT. WAIT. THAT SENSATION? I'm sorry, too."

A dozen vines came out from Girrup's pincers. Lu weaved through them seamlessly. She leaped into the air, spun around, and brought down her leg.

"Sudden death!" She yelled.

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

Heetz held onto Frig as though his life depended on it. Frig looked around, worried that his brother's panicking might get them both in a lot of trouble. They were well behind the ranks of the opposing Punishers, paired off against their dozens of Sents. Quite a few times one of the Punishers in the back of the pack would come to their senses, searching for the source of some distant whimpering in the ocean of snow.

Luckily, Heetz calmed down right after Girrup stopped talking.

"I-i-i-is it over?" The linoone asked, quietly.

"Lu took care of him. Killed him, or knocked him out cold."

"T-t-t-t… thank you, Arceus..."

Whatever that voice carried, his brother was far more sensitive to its intent. Even so, Frig couldn't help his own sigh of relief. "I have no idea what just happened. Nasfereet came in, then came in that stench. Then Lu got real strong out of nowhere! And if she didn't do the honors just then, Tobi had his own plans in mind, I could see it in his eyes from over here!"

Without Girrup scaring him, Heetz became a little more… usual. "Speaking of Tobi," he said, his voice a little too loud for comfort. "Do you think he meant what he said? To, uh, the Bonecrusher? If so, that's real traitorous!"

A few Punishers turned back to look at them. Frig wrapped an arm around his brother and pushed them both into the snow before they could make out their white fur. "Come on…." Frig became pensive. "Okay, okay. I saw the way he charmed the Bonecrusher. The Bonecrusher. I can't blame you for falling under his spell."

Heetz turned, a sad look on his face. "Listen, I'm really sorry the family went hungry when I ran away. All I wanted was to do was understand these feelings I have..."

"Gah, I can't fault you for that, either. Lu, the most duteous duty-doer to ever walk Pokéterra, went straight bonkers right in front of us. All because she wanted a kid or something."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, I've been repressing my disgust at our position."

"Our position?" Heetz asked.

"As Punishers. I found it so easy to ignore that disgust, I started to think that emotions were easy to shove away. But, in reality… I ended up attacking my best brother when he was injured. All that disgust, er, molded into wanting to at least fit in. I'd have rather been a good Punisher than a bad one, right?" Frig scratched his head, a little ashamed of his actions over the past day or so. "What I'm saying is… one twin won't ever be above the other, okay?"

Heetz smiled and wiggled around in their hiding place. "It means so much to hear you say that, Frig, really. Especially since we're about to g-get torn apart by Punishers."

"Oh. Right." Allworthy ordered them to 'prod' the Punishers from the back. Not claw, or take down a few – that would be suicide. Somehow, the herdier thought it prudent to waste two fighters on annoying a pack of furious Sents. Still, Frig had a lot of confidence in his commander. Out of the prospective commanders that might have taken them off mother's paws,, he was alright. Heetz, at least, was hopelessly enamored by the dog. "How do you wanna go at this, Heetz?" He asked.

"See that one with the broken arm and leg?" Heetz said, pointing at a sullen vigoroth. "He can't turn well enough to point us out. Remember that time I kept poking you and hiding? You got so mad, you blamed sis then pounced on her!"

"Pinning our attacks on a crippled Sent? That's a brutal prank, bro… but that must be Allworthy's plan! Let's do it!" The two nodded to each other and slithered towards the troop.

The heracross wanted nothing more than to fade away from the embarrassing sack of flesh next to him. But the Bonecrusher wanted him to be present during the fight – a second chance, as if anyone possessed the gumption to fight on half the right amount of limbs. And his fellow Punisher refused to shut up about the duel. He had to know every. Little. Detail.

"What just happened to right-hand Girrup?" The vigororth asked.

"He wigged out and got his ass handed to him," the heracross spat. "Kind of like you. For both our fakes, shut up till we're moving on the Roaken."

"O-Okay."

"Fat bug," the vigoroth added a moment later. "Bet I can beat your fatness on one leg."

"Pardon?" The Punisher growled. No way. Orders or not, that sort of talk led to justified beatings. "You want to repeat that for me?"

The vigororth gaped. "T-t-that… now, that wasn't me. A linoone came up and-" he realized how that sounded. "I said nothing," he amended, ashamed.

"That's more like it." He smiled and went back to watching. The lucario sat on the sidelines, watching the other fight. But it was only a matter of time before the rhydon ordered them in. Out of nowhere, the heracross jolted as a claw raked across his carapace. It left a nasty surface wound, a kind that takes days to rub out. He whirled around, furious. "You rotten, lazy waste of space! You want to fight me, do you?"

A machop shoved him back in reply. "You're gonna talk smack after sneaking a blow. Yeah, real brave." The heracross looked down to see a pair of linoone wiggling between their legs. He pointed down, the words refusing to come from his mouth. "Well, we got time. Let''s settle this!" A punch laid out the heracross, whose sharp, long horn bashed into another Sent. That Sent, already busy beating on the vigororth, turned in an instant. He made himself scarce in reply to the new attacker, who overreached and smacked another Punisher in the back of the head.

"Are we going?" Several voices asked, panicked. Others saw the fighting behind them, which in turn set them to charging the Roaken. The Bonecrusher roared for them to stay back. The distraction allowed Allworthy to land a leaping kick to the rhydon's chest. He wasn't able to give any orders without giving up free blows.

As a result of the melee, only a half of their massive force actually had the wit to charge the real enemy. It was a lot of bodies, but not the massacre that half dreamed of. Some became doubtful, turning tail to join the scrap going on over at their own side.

Two linoone popped out of the snow some distance away. They pulled the unconscious vigoroth to safety before scampering away, satisfied.

"Lo-oo-k!" The heracross screeched, trying to pry himself out of the growing mass of chaos. "It was some linoone. Some linoone started it Stop it! Ow! GRAAAAH!" At that point, it didn't matter who started it. The Punisher dove into the riot, swinging and pushing as much as the others.

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

"Commander," Sobre shouted, "a lot of them are still coming! W-W-What do we do?"

"Fight them," I.E shouted. "Dialga won't ever make us this lucky again. We must take advantage!"

Even with the mightyena's inspiring words, the Roaken were frozen to the spot. Lu told them to sit in formation, to look intimidating. Beyond that, they knew nothing about massive scraps. Some of them hadn't drawn blood in years – they trembled, backing away from the Punishers.

The first of many came. In their retreat, the Roaken forgot to pull I.E away. This first crazed Sent, a beedril, went straight at the blind commander. He dodged the blow, and CheepaCheep came in. He pecked at the beedril's head, dazing it. Fol finished the job by slamming it in the chest with her antlers. It fell away, dazedly gasping for air.

"What are you all doing?" Fol cried. "We can't handle this alone!" Sans reared up his legs and kicked a nearby machop in the jaw. Two more frenzied Sents replaced him as he fell away, wiping blood off his mouth and slinging it into the snow. "Damn it!" Panic began to set in. The Roaken were of no help.

"Get yourself over here," I.E roared. The soft Sents were too afraid to participate. Those who stayed found themselves in a dire spot. They lashed out, scoring a few blows, taking in more abuse than they could hope to beedril recovered, then knocked down Sans. Fol pushed towards the young trooper, some creature or another biting into her leg.

Before she could reach the blitzle, or the beedril could finish the job, Basil plucked him out of the battle. The nearby enemies drew back, afraid of the zangoose's presence.

"Is that the big one?" I.E asked, pinning down an incoming murkrow. "About damned time!"

"H-hey!" Sans screamed. "Put me back down, I wanna help!"

"Let Maga clear a few," she said.

The torrent of Punishers paused. The name shocked them out of their bloodthirstiness for a brief moment.

"Did she saw prince Maga?" One asked.

"T-T-That's impossible."

"He's dead, right?"

The zangoose on Fol's leg dropped off, allowing the stantler to escape. "Who cares, prince Maga is on our side-"

Maga flew in from above and landed right onto the zangoose. It's posterior stuck out from the ground, twitching – the Sent was buried so deep, he was likely chewing on the dirt beneath the snow. The other Punishers shrieked, retreated, fled for their lives.

His tassels weren't yet regrown, but someone had done a shoddy job tying on some old tassels. The mienshao gave them all a cruel smile.

"Not on your side," he cleared up for them. They resumed their charge, now a desperate attack instead of a confident sweep.

The beedril tried to fly up in order to finish off the blitzle. Maga flew back, wheeling an arm backwards towards the sneaky bee. Blood erupted from its side as it fluttered down the ground. Then the mienshao hopped forward, striking three down with a single, fluid motion. The Roaken watched on in horror. While Maga claimed he never received a fair battle, there wasn't a rebel that hadn't heard of his reaction to being deposed. The prince faced twelve stronger members. He sent twelve crippled, trembling Sents back down from his castle. It took Duke Brazen and Wayfarer Hellingly together to beat the mienshao into submission.

Again and again, members from the Bonecrusher's troops were sent away howling. Bleak came up to towards the fight, to inspect the handiwork of the fighter he healed. Basil lowered a claw and covered his eyes.

"Yes! I've been so stressed!" Maga announced. "Not so fun when I'm not tied to a post, cowards?" The Punishers rotated around him, trying to discover a weakness. There was one: not truly healed, Maga was already panting. Still he fought, pushing forward instead of defending.

"This is for whipping me! This is for embarrassing me! This is for sullying-" his paw stopped mid-strike. "This..." he let out a ragged breath.

Tobi wrapped his claws around his paw and lowered it.

"Hey."

The mienshao was at loss of words. The presence of both princes set the Punishers on edge – luckily, for neither of them cared much for the fight. Maga made an attempt to pull away his paw. Tobi held on.

"Hey," the braixen said again. A lump in his throat made it hard to speak.

"Hello," Maga replied hoarsely.

"Wow, you're pretty banged up."

"Ha. Ha, h-h-h..."

"You mind if I help you out?"

Maga, for the first time in years, felt a real pang of joy. He and the others fighting had halved the half attacking them. Punishers who escaped the melee on the other end, however, renewed their numbers. Not that numbers mattered anymore.

"I'd like that," he said.

Tobi held out a claw. "Somebody hand me a stick. Branch, whatever." Basil plucked one from her spot in the back and tossed it over. It was mangled, but workable. "Okay," he said.

Maga alone was something to fear. Now Maga was on fire. Howls, yelps and screeches came from the opposing forces as Tobi's fire, carried by Maga's sewn tassels, destructed their ranks.

Sobre backed away, awed yet stricken. Now he saw the pragmatic side to Lu's safekeeping: if Tobi had been allowed to rule over Roake with Maga, they'd need a small army to uproot them. Together, they were lethal. But, dancing on top of the bright snow as blossoms crisped around them… he saw the way they danced.

One Punisher, though, almost managed to land a blow on the braixen. A linoone came out from under the snow and tackled the dangerous Sent before it could cause any harm. Tobi spun around, sending flame onto the attacker.

Heetz waved to the braixen. "You owe me one, cutey!" He shouted. Frig tugged him back to the ground, before someone around them decided to take a whack at them.

Maga gave Tobi a confounded look. The braixen laughed and went back to fighting.

Another fight continued – one of the duels, now forgotten in the chaos. Though the Bonecrusher had moved his attention to a new threat. He watched as the two princes, whom he had underestimated, lead the decimation of the troop he spent years strengthening. The Roaken and Allworthy somehow, without words, formed an escape from certain doom.

The rhydon deflected Allworthy's tackle with his good claw. He laughed bitterly. "You were right, old commander. You are rungs above me."

"Damn right," the herdier said. "I made you. It's only right for me to hold the power to destroy you. Lu, Nasfereet," he called. "Feel free to join in. Help me end this mess of a Sent."

The esteemed commander backed away as the two Wayfarers flanked him. He faltered, his heart started to race. He was losing. Dying. So close. Just seeing it happen to Girrup filled him with envy. His would have been far more powerful. Powerful enough. "You might have made me," he told Allworthy. "But I made myself into much more. Shame you'll never see."

A look of sympathy flashed over Alloworthy's face. "Yeah."

During the silent moment, the Bonecrusher took his chance. The mightyena was nipping at some of his Punishers. He could kill the blind waste of space. He would run fast enough, or die reaching. Either way, it hardly mattered. The ground shook as he sprinted. The Wayfarers cried out to resume the flank – then, recognizing that he intended anything but escape, tried to outpace him.

The mightyena perked his ears. He sniffed the air.

Faster. Kill it.

I.E turned to face the Bonecrusher. Fear filled his empty eyes.

Go. Go. Nasfereet tried to use a ranged attack to trip him. He hiked up a stout leg to dodge it.

I.E's fear turned to pensiveness.

Run, run, run.

I.E recalled who ordered Missan's death. He remembered who blinded him.

GO! GO!

I.E's pensiveness turned to rage.

FATHER

I.E's rage turned to determination.

GO NOW MAKE FATHER PROUD

I.E took in a deep breath. He prepared to retaliate.

NOT HERE, NOT LIKE THIS

I.E was gone. The Bonecrusher skidded across the snow, looking around.

PATHETIC.

PATHETIC…

I.E buried his fangs into the rhydon's head. For normal attacks, his hide sufficed in stopping it. Yet this mightyena came from Prowlse. He used the shadow fang art, piercing farther than the Bonecrusher anticipated.

When those fangs broke through and cracked his skull, he was so close. His hand resting on I.E's back. That arm fell limp, and all the combatants froze.

The mightyena hopped back to the ground, taking in the scene.

"That," he breathed, "was for Missan."

More silence. The rhydon refused to fall, even after the deciding blow. His skull was broken, his brains punctured. Yet he stood, a statue of rough hide and flesh.

"Why… am I alive?" He asked.

He realized something amazing. Before, he thought that the boosheid only came when during murder. But it was at any moment of great, foul release. His anguish then pushed him over the edge. Once again, the stench of boosheid washed over them – this time, it was aggressively present. He made past the threshold. He went where no Sent went before. Not on purpose, at least.

He announced that. "I made it," he told everyone. "I'm ready."

Lu sprinted in front of him, waving everyone away. "Get back!" She shouted to them all, Roaken or Punisher.

Allworthy approached. The corpse turned to face him.

"Look, commander. We've done it," he said.

"Whatever you're about to do," Allworthy pleaded. "Don't." He had his suspicions. They were right.

"Goodbye, commander," he said. "I am a Punishment now."

Lu, Basil, Bleak, Tobi, Maga, Allworthy, Nasfereet, I.E, Sobre, the rest of the Roaken, the Punsishers: all were consumed by the fissure sent out by the Punishment.

~~~PUNISHMENT~~~

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT IT FEELS LIKE

"TO BE A SON HATED BY THEIR FATHER.

"I HAD THE CONFIDENCE, YOU HAD THE GUIDANCE. ALLWORTHY, YOU WERE THE ONLY ONE WILLING TO TEACH ME.

"YET, IN THE END, I DISGUSTED YOU. YOU BLAMED ME FOR BEING THE PERFECT SON. YOUR EPIPHANY CAME AT THE COST OF THE AFFECTION YOU USED TO SHOW. I HAD TO CONVINCE YOU AGAIN, SOMEHOW, THAT IT IS OKAY TO BE PROUD OF A SON WHO IS A KILLER. I AM NOTHING, HOWEVER. I AM IRREDEEMABLE. YOUR MORALS MADE ME INTO TRASH TO EVERYONE EXCEPT YOU. THEN I LOST YOU TOO."

The Herdier tried to get up. That fissure was directed at him; he was after it, he barely held a grasp on his consciousness. How the others fared, he had no clue.

But perhaps it was a nightmare. Did he really raise Armstrong, his right-hand, into a Punishment?

"I'm..." he wondered if the rhydon, now amassing energy, could even hear him. "I'm sorry."

"IT WASN'T A FUNNY JOKE. I SEE THAT NOW.

"BEST FOOT FORWARD.

"BUT DID YOU REALLY NEED TO ABANDON ME. D-DAD."

"Damn it!" The herdier yelled from his spot on the ground. Dusty whirled about in the air. He had no idea where anything was. "Quit calling me that!"

"I'LL BE NAMED THE CHERRY BLOSSOM PUNISHMENT, SOON. I WILL LET YOU LIVE.

"IF YOU SAY YOU'RE PROUD OF ME, ARMSTRONG THE BONECRUSHER."

"Never! A-as your father, I demand you stop this shit this instant!"

"DON'T YELL AT ME WHEN I JUST WANT TO—"

"Sudden death!" Lu came down, bashing her foot into the rhydon's skull. The entire beast shrugged down, hampered by the concussive strike.

The lucario hopped between the wide cracks in the ground, till she arrived at Allworthy's lonely slice. She gave him a concerned glance, then focused on the Punishment.

"TALK TO YOU. OW. LITTLE GIRL, I SENSE WHAT GIRRUP SENSED. THOSE WITH STOLTHET ARE INSTINCTIVE KILLERS OF MONSTERS LIKE ME. BUT YOU ARE FAR TOO WEAK."

"You all right?" Lu asked Allworthy.

He grunted and managed to slip onto his belly. "No guts out of place. Just… just finish off the bastard before he…"

"Commander, commander, commander!" CheepaCheep shrieked. Horror filled his usually chipper notes. He dropped off two unconscious linoone at Allworthy's feet. "Things are going crazy! Time to split, squawk!"

"On second thought, it might be better to focus your efforts on the bird."

"Ha, ha. I can do this..." Lu ran forward to strike again.

Across the way, Basil determined it was safe enough, relatively, to let Bleak out from under her belly. She expected him to be crying, or to run the opposite way. Instead, the charmander scrambled out, contract ready in his small claw.

"Show time," he told Basil. "It's now or never. If I… we can't stop this, Pokéterra's doomed. I just know it."

Lu's voice cut through the fog of destruction. Sadly, the Bonecrusher's voice also came through. "Young one," Basil said, reaching for him, "we need to leave."

"No. We need to stay. Lu won't be able to do this one alone. Here's what I need you-"

A voice screamed out behind them. "Stop it!" It was Sans's voice. "Stop fighting, give Fol back!" Basil looked at the child, then towards the origin of Sans's cries. She picked herself up and precariously made her way to him. Bleak reached out, but understanding cut his words short. He followed.

For the second time, Basil found and pulled Sans out from a crowd of furious Punishers. These Sents… their violence was no longer sentient. They cut each other aimlessly. Not even to kill, not unless it was towards a body somewhere at the bottom of their mass. Basil took the struggling blitzle in the other direction.

"I-I slipped and she saved me. And now they won't let her g-g-go. Why won't they stop hurting her?" Hurting. Fol was dead.

"They're ferals," Bleak replied, hardly believing himself. "These must be the species indoctrinated into a Punishment. Whoever resonates with the energy the Punishment needs has their spirit ripped away. A foul sort of energy overall… Maga! He might have been affected!"

"Who cares?!" Sans wailed.

"Me, if only for the harm Maga will bring to us survivors!"

"What are you two talking about?" Maga asked tiredly. He turned back to the mightyena behind him, who in turn led several traumatized Roaken with Tobi watching their back. "Would you look at that, you blind dog. Moving towards that orgy of violence was the right decision."

Sobre shakily brought his head up. "How could you two argue? We're all going to be consumed in… in whatever hell this is." Hell it was. A tornado of vicious red energy and debris.

"Not if Lu has anything to say about it," Tobi said. "A few of those kicks, and the problem is solved. Right? Right..."

"Tell them what you told me," Basil said to Bleak. The child informed them of what was happening.

And Lu slowing down her assault told them much more. The lucario fell back, limping away. The Bonecrusher made no move to hit her. She moved in again and slipped. Armstrong the Bonecrusher roared with laughter.

"IF IT HELPS, I FELT YOUR BLOWS. IT'S JUST THAT NORMAL PAIN NO LONGER APPLIES TO ME. I AM INDESTRUCTIBLE. I'D GET TO ADMITTING YOUR PRIDE IN ME, ALLWORTHY.

"I TOLD MY NEW FATHER THAT I WANTED TO KILL YOU. WILLARD CALLED THAT INAPPROPRIATE. YOU OUGHT TO HAVE A CHANCE TO LOVE ME. A GLORIOUS COLOSSUS"

"Duke Willard," Maga muttered."Of course."

Cogs started to work in Tobi's head. "Colussus… to Work Against Colossal Things!"

The mentioning of that doomed dance made Maga flinch. Their last dance. "Tobi, please don't bring that up. Not now..." then his own head started to mull over the implications. "No. No way. Why would Duke Willard give that to us?"

Tobi licked his chops. "No idea. But it's worth a shot."

Maga tried to doubt some more. The howling of the amassing Punishment stopped him. "Fine. But we should see what Bleak wants to do. That knife of his knows what's up."

Bleak gaped, surprised to see leadership deferred to him. He spoke quickly. "I need Basil to throw me at him. He's a filled balloon right now. A stab with the contract won't pop him, but it will weaken the carapace around him. Lu seems to be unfit to attack again, so your dance will be the followup. It better be strong enough."

"One problem, sibling," Basil said. "No way I'm tossing you."

The expressionless charmander managed a small smile. "Basil. Thanks for coming all this way to find me. However… this is my role. I plan to do it right and to get out alive. Trust me."

"Young o-"

"Basil. We can do this!"

"...Just wondering how I should hold you, sheesh." She scooped up the charmander, who pointed himself at the rhydon. Tobi and Maga nodded to each other, preparing for a life-or-death performance. The Bonecrusher wasn't ignorant of their congregating.

"...WHAT ARE YOU ALL DOING. CAN WE PLEASE LET THIS BE THE END."

"Now!" Bleak shouted. Basil roared and twisted back. The throw sent Bleak above the new Punishment's influence, back into blue skies, crisp air. Only a second down below made him miss what he always had.

When he came plummeting down, he stabbed the contract straight into the Bonecrusher's back. The landing knocked the young child out. His claw stayed wrapped around the hilt for a moment, then the release of corrupted energy sent him flying, tumbling towards a deep crack.

Nasfereet dove forward. He worked with one unbroken arm, yet still managed to grab the kid amidst the rhydon's screams.

"Some kid," the weavile muttered to himself, dragging the charmander up.

"OW! HA, HA, NOW THAT HURTS. THAT HURTS, SMALL CHILD. YOU ARE QUITE THE THREAT. I'LL KILL YOU FIRST WHEN I'M – NOW THE PRETTY PRINCES ARE HERE TO PLAY."

"More than play," Tobi told him, casting out his stick. Maga emerged from the fog, paws on fire – his makeshift tassels were not very effective.

"THAT SMELL. THE PRETTIER PRINCE HAS STOLTHET."

Maga slammed his paws into the ground, creating a shower of sparks.

"THE OTHER PRINCE – I CAN FEEL MY PULL ON YOUR SPIRIT. YOU ARE SOMEHOW RESISTANT."

Tobi tried once to connect the sparks and failed. He struck any doubts from his mind, swinging out his wand. The sparks made a wall of fire.

"STOLTHET AND BOOSHEID – TOGETHER. I AM IN TROUBLE."

Finally, the rhydon started to budge. He was far too slow, his hubris making his reactions dull. Maga pushed through the wall of flame. He closed his eyes.

Back then, seeing Tobi flip through the air filled him with the confidence to carry that fire.

Back then, he had a brief moment where he knew Tobi needed him.

And now, Tobi needed him. Everyone needed him.

He summoned forth the flame column. The force of it blew away the apocalyptic energies spreading around the Bonecrusher. It drilled into the fragment they stood on. It slammed into the Punishment's face, making him look towards the sky. It roared louder than the fighting ferals, and glowed brighter than ever. Like a drill, it chipped away at the Bonecrusher's new carapace. Then came the finish. A loud boom swept the field, causing everyone to duck down.

Smoke rose into the air. Maga stepped out of it, his makeshift tassels falling to the ground in smolders, the wounds on his back reopened then scarred over with fire. He sat down in front of the rhydon, waiting.

They all watched the Bonecrusher turn his head back to the ground. For the first time, they saw what it looked like for such a great monster to cry.

"HOW I WOULD LIKE TO PRETEND I DIDN'T FEEL IT.

"BUT I AM DEAD.

"DEAD.

"FUTILE… FUTILE…."

Allworthy limped towards his old right-hand. "You could' have lied to me. Or sent me off the trail. Yet you led me right to you, didn't you?" The red fog began to fade. Sunlight peeked through – the noon surprised them.

"...Yeah," Armstrong said.

"Why?"

"I… I was unsure of where my future led me. To kill or to be killed. I decided to pit my fates against each other. Seemed easier than a decision."

"Hell, you wanted us stop you. I never suspected it was you who would be the one who prayed for us to be brought together again."

"Sure."

"You brought those two princes together."

"I suppose..."

"You brought out the leader in Lu."

"You did."

"No, you did," the herdier said. "Without you, Bleak would be on route to Treasus, pawned off by his den mother – so much lost potential. Basil wouldn't have the chance to help her siblings, and Nasfereet would still be regretting his choice to leave the Wayfarers. You've shown us that Punishments can be stopped. You saved the fucking world, Armstrong..."

"I'm pretty tired," Armstrong replied. "Hell, dying takes the piss out of you."

Allworthy forced his eyes to meet his right-hand's. The rhydon waited, expectantly, for the final moments of life to pass.

"I-I'm real proud of you, kid."

The Bonecrusher slumped over, an indescribably pleasant smile on his face. The stench of boosheid disappeared. "I love you, dad."

He tipped back, dead. They were all left in the middle of nothing, alive and unsure of what comes next.

One chapter left...


	20. The End

"H-Hey Sobre, pal, I think it might be time for you to help us unpack..."

"Shut up, Leopold."

"Sheesh… can it at least be time for us to put away the brew? You're going way too hard at it, like always. I know that things aren't on the up-and-up, but I bet you can't name a single time you've actually managed to drink away your woes."

Bleak found himslef curled up in a surprisingly warm hay-bed, breathing in fresh air. He chose to keep his eyes closed. It was better to eavesdrop than for the two grownups to lie to him about what came after their attack. At the very least, the Punishment had to be dead – that filled Bleak with unspeakable joy. Yet the two others in the tent seemed anything but glad. He rolled over, focusing on the conversation.

"…Do you need me to explain, pal? A lot of our friends died in the last two days. First our group sent to meet up with the kid. And now… June, Merger, our friends… we can't find them in the rubble. Then there's what happened – right in front of our eyes. That rhydon, Leopold… i-i-it almost became a Punishment. It has been rumored that great violence begets the formation of a Punishment. But, damn it, he forced the act! And worse,  _and worse_?!" The sandshrew, in a fit of panic, shattered his glass on the ground. The pieces tumbled across the floor of the tent. "His right-hand tried the  _same thing_. Leopold, someone out there  _knows._  They  _know_."

Leopold hardly needed an explanation of what was known: some commander or Duke had obtained a way to cultivate their lackeys into Punishments. The krookodile patted his friend's back. "That's all a little redundant, friend. Like I said, you're drinking-"

"Shut up, Leopold..." Sobre chuckled. "That is not all that happened here. If we died with the information we now have, that would be reason enough for me to get slathered – though I would be slain, so… anyway! We didn't. We survived. Now we know the secret as well: Stolthet isn't just a way for us to know a leader is in our midst. Boosheid as well serves a higher purpose. They seem to be at odds with one another. The latter marks those capable of becoming Punishments, whereas the former… marks those who can be Punishment-killers. We've been without an answer for so long – now this fight has rules. If Lu comes with us and, er, keeps those princes on a short leash? We are finally armed for some real change."

The krookodile let out a knowing sigh. "Ah, I get it. The higher stakes are stressing you out. Damn, Sobrewright, you are such a stressful creature."

"So are you!" Sobre shot back, offended. "Say, I smashed my drink. Mind getting me another..."

There wasn't any further use to pretending to sleep. Bleak rose up, making sure to act groggy to avoid suspicion. He gave his eyes a good wipe and looked over at them, a blank look on his face – that last part turned out to be easy.

"Good afternoon," Bleak said. Eyes open, he noticed that the sandshrew was a bit past tipsy. It surprised the charmander that he managed to avoid slurring his words. Judging by the bottles strewn about the tent, there was enough booze to knock Basil out. "Uh, are you two celebrating? That's an irresponsible amount..."

"Don't look at me!" Leopold said, waving his claws. "That's all his. And worry not – he and I, we Sents, are less susceptible to the effects. Our grounded natures soak it all up."

Bleak contemplated the tidbit. " _He and I?_  You said it was all his."

The nervous laughter pulled on Bleak's face, putting a small grin on his face. "Eh, heh," the krookodile chuckled. "Me? Our only medic, drinking on the job? Child, a Roaken's mind is their greatest treasure, I'd never lubricate it with foul toxins before-"

"Stuff it, Leopold. He does not need to know your lubrication habits. Kid, are you okay? That was quite the gambit you put us through. That tranquil outside keeps wondering if you will give him flying lessons." Bleak couldn't help but admire their stoicism in front of him; he had heard them struggle to grasp what happened, yet in front of him, things became chipper. As if they got a perfect ending.

A thought occurred to Bleak: were they happy to see  _him?_

Trying to play the part, he rose up right away. He felt woozy, and his head throbbed where it slammed into the Bonecrusher's thick hide. "I'm going to take a rain-check on doing that trick again. Besides that, I'm perfect."

The sandshrew laughed for a moment, then stopped. He became serious. "Listen. Since Missan is… gone, I will be taking over her studies. And I wanted to know, while it is fresh on your mind: what happened when you stabbed him with the contract?"

His earlier analysis proved him to be quite astute in the field. The child cut to the chase out of respect. "Well," Bleak answered, "he sort of acted like an orb. Oddly enough." Sobre nodded emphatically, taking mental notes. "When you stab an orb with a contract, it releases a lethal amount of energy." He would know; he killed a diggersby by destroying a relay orb. "When I stabbed him, I saw things. That's another effect: you see how the orb was created. In this case, I saw how the Bonecrusher came to be."

"S-Saw things… like what?"

As soon as Sobre asked, memories of  _what_  he saw came rushing back. He began to feel sick remembering it.

"...Nothing that hulking guy didn't yell out about the herdier," he lied. "They both suffered because of a bad relationship."

_Come now. Why are you lying to them?_

Bleak's eyes shot over to a blanket stuffed into the corner of the room. He walked over, flipping over a corner. Lo and behold, the Contract waited for him. The same one he used, even, with its jeweled hilt and ornate blade. How it kept out of the many crags when he dropped it…

 _Sheer luck,_  it told him.  _You saw more than you let on now. What you saw is critical._

"Nasty things," Bleak said, forgetting himself. "Not everyone should know. I shouldn't know."

"Oh, hell," Leopold moaned. "Is he  _talking_  to it?" Sobre nodded, too focused to be shocked – compared to watching a Punishment form, this was child's play. "I-I'll go get some more brew..."

Sobre sat up. "Kid, who  _can_  you tell?"

Bleak thought about it. "I need to speak with Maga."

Too drunk to stop himself, Sobre groaned and rolled his eyes. "Oh, of course you do!"

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

"So there we were, surrounded by innumerable Punishers," Heetz cried, throwing at an arm to emphasize the size of the forces. "Nothing but our wit could help us survive in the veritable wastes of depravity known as… er,  _over there._ " He pointed through the cherry blossom trees, back to where the Bonecrusher's forces stood.

Frig joined in on the completely and totally true story. "We ran into a heracross while sneaking through the snow. It spotted us!  _Meh, I'm twice as strong as my… uncle Girrup_ , it said!"

"And don't forget the vigoroth who had four working limbs!" Frig gave his brother a look. "And, well, it was… twice as big?" Frig shook his head. "Thrice?" Another shake. "It was as big as Basil!" He cried, angrily. "Well I climbed up onto the vigoroth using my cunning and agility..."

Heetz dashed forward and scrambled up Basil's back. The zangoose, who had phased out while listening to the tale, jolted with surprise. With Heetz wobbling on her shoulders, and Frig sitting at her feet while making bug noises, Basil decided it was best to remain perfectly still.

"I gave it my patented body slam!" Heetz roared and leaped off of Basil, landing straight onto his brother's head.

Frig growled, shrugging of his brother. "Idiot! You weren't supposed to actually slam me!"

"Who are you calling an idiot?!"

"You, idiot!"

The two fell into a wrestling match. CheepaCheep hopped around them, mistaking the brawl as the next part of their story. He almost made a full revolution when he came to a stop at Sans. The blitzle looked past the improv going on in front of him, out to the trees where the scarred land laid. The bird stooped down, almost pecking Sans in the head.

"Sans, Sans, Sans, you aren't paying attention!" He cried.

Sans let out a ragged sigh. "Whatever."

The squabbling brothers stopped on a dime. They both sighed and looked towards their fellow Punisher. "Dang," Frig said. "Bro, the story didn't work."

"I can see that." Heetz sighed, then came in close. "Look, Sans. Fol  _wanted_  it to be you instead of her. How is that your fault?"

After the chaos subsided, the Bonecrusher's force was in ruins. Girrup died – whether from Lu's kick or Armstrong's fissure, no one could tell. Everyone had Armstrong's fate burned into their memory. As for the Punishers in his command… it was perhaps the worst of all. Almost half of them died, slaying each other in the panic or slipping into a crag. Only one good piece of good news came from it: after the Bonecrusher fell, those Sents turned into ferals became Docile instead. Although they lost their wits, they also lost their lust for blood, instilled in them by their commander. They received a second chance at life, in a way.

And somewhere in the middle, Fol lost her life. She was pinned at the bottom of a scrap after pulling Sans out. And the blitzle blamed himself for every step of it.  _If I had kept my balance,_  he repeated to himself. The mirth of a make-believe sessions with Frig and Heetz wasn't enough to cheer him up.

Sans looked up at the linoone. "I get that you want me to be happy. But I don't deserve it. I… I really knew nothing about Fol. We traveled together, and chatted. Not a single time did I ask her anything personal, nor her to me. Yet she threw herself away. Saving me was a mistake..."

"I'd pay attention to your commander," Nasfereet recommended. He walked in on their meeting, supporting the cast around his broken arm with his good claw. "Judging by that expression on his face, you're a few words away from a lashing."

He was right: Allworthy hobbled forward, downright frustration in his eyes. He also kept his head cocked to one end, trying to hide that his left ear had been torn away in the chaos. The bandage around it left a lonely red splotch.

"Sans," he said, "Somebody who just decides to pity themselves instead of asking  _why…_  is this who you want to become? Because you can go for a short walk that-a-way and see how it worked out for Armstrong and me."

At the notion of seeing that battlefield again, Sans perked up, affronted. "Commander, I-"

" _I_ , nothing! Before this went down, you were asking me solid questions, such as why we refused to send murdered Sents into the Punishments. You've got to use your head now, newbie. Instead of saying that saving you was a mistake, how about you ask yourself:  _what_  would make saving you a mistake?!"

"I..."

"Oh? Perhaps if you became a complaining bastard who sits on his ass all day!"

"C-Commander..."

"Maybe if you vow you wouldn't do the same in her position!"

"But I would!" Sans shouted. "Of course I would! How dare you say that?"

" _Then why are you calling it a mistake when she did it?!"_  The herdier stomped past his subordinate. Sans flinched, expecting a strike. But Allworthy simply continued his march towards the center of camp. "Use your fucking head, egghead," he spat.

Nasfereet watched his commander leave. Then, he broke the silence with an awkward hum. "Uh, don't worry about him, Sans. The whole ordeal with Armstrong has struck him fairly hard..."

Sans sobbed, burying his head under his forelegs. "He's right!" He wailed. "It's so hard to find the right answer. I am a-always one step behind on this stuff, so I started to wonder why I bother at all."

The Wayfarer shrugged. "You're young. All of you have a lot to learn."

None of them noticed that the herdier had stopped. He coughed, grabbing their attention. "To be honest? I'm surprised that you all seem to be upstanding Sents. Maybe – and trust me, this ain't a brag – I provided a good environment. Arceus knows how." He laughed. "But, in the end, I've got many demons of my own to deal with. I did a bully job for what it's worth. Now, though, you whelps deserve a teacher with a flew less demons than I have – which is why you're all discharged. None of you are Punishers anymore."

A ruckus started up instantly.

"What?!" Heetz cried. "C-Can you even do that… what will happen to our popularity contest? Who do you like more, Frig or me?! Answer me!"

"A-ha! There was a contest, I knew it all along!" Frig shouted.

Basil shrugged. "Wow, I was a Punisher for a whole day. Ma is gonna kill me."

CheepaCheep flapped around, eyes wide open with horror. "Commander, commander-" he realized that, technically, Allworthy just gave up that title. "Friend?! Friend?! Friend?!" He chanted instead.

Finally, Sans shot up. "W-Where will we go, Allworthy?"

The herdier laughed. "I heard a certain lucario is starting up the most important troop Pokéterra will ever see." They fell silent, thinking about the prospects. From one day as a soldier sending Sents into Punishments, to the next, free Sents who did the exact opposite. It was like a dream come true. "Nasfereet? We've got a few matters to attend to with our Roaken friends. Get your goodbyes out of the way."

The ex-Punishers looked to their old right-hand. The weavile scratched his head and scrunched down. "Well, I was never good at speeches, even when I had my own troop. But I wanted you all to know, er..." he gave them a sly grin. "You're all bastards for making me set up camp every night. And I hope you get splinters pitching up the poles." The troop loved it. Even Sans managed a small chuckle at the inspiring goodbye. "Don't get into too much trouble. And Heetz – final order, stay twenty feet away from Tobi at all times!" Heetz crossed his arms and stood up this full height, already vowing to ignore that order. Then, there was only one item left on the agenda. "Basil..."

The zangoose nodded. "Yeah?"

"I need your letter. Even after our miniature civil war, I can get it approved. An old Wayfarer has a lot of leverage, still." Basil breathed in. She removed the letter from a nearby bag and handed it to him. He slid it open, inspecting her handiwork. "Hm… an  _r_  is backwards in  _Trixie,_ then you spelled  _Coatzle_  with not one, not two, but  _three_   _z'_ s – why would you do that?  _Coatssssul..._ "

Basil grinned from ear to ear. "That letter is hard. So I put it three different ways. That way, at least one of them is right."

"What an unusual approach to spelling. Well, Basil, this is fine. But you ought to improve. Promise me."

"Promise," she said. "Thank you, Allworthy. Thank you, Nasfereet."

The rest of them gave their gratitude, cheering on the weavile and herdier as the two left them to their hopeful new troop.

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

When Lu finally finished arranging things back at the site of the battle, the sun had long started its descent behind the horizon. Her foot was wrapped twice-over, shattered from her attempts to slay the Bonecrusher. Even then, she couldn't help the staggering amount of pride she felt towards Tobi. She hated to admit that she lost hope in the braixen for a moment. Till the point that Tobi saving  _her_  was nothing but a sad joke.

Now she was the one lagging behind on smaller business. She walked in on the braixen, standing tall, in a deep discussion with I.E and Allworthy. Even so I.E poorly hid his hatred for the Sent who stole away his last years with Missan, Tobi refused to snarl back. He took the burden of responsibility, obviously pained every time he had to address the mightyena.

When Lu came in, all three acted as if she performed a daring rescue.

"Now that Lu's here," Tobi said, "we can start the 'progress-making' part of the meeting."

"Right," I.E spat. "Lu, if you don't mind me asking… where were you the last few hours? I assume escorting the new Dociles from the rubble was harder than expected."

Lu grinned. "Super secret!" They let it by, but Lu noticed something else in Tobi's eyes. Tears welling up. An intense, stoic gaze. He found Maga. Now, every delay of meeting him probably sent pangs of fear through him: what if Maga disappeared? What if he somehow evaporated? Lu started to feel guilty – in a way, he forced himself away in order to take care of her business.

She knew how to repay him. "Hey, Tobi. You were strong back there. Thank you."

Tobi became bashful. "No, not really. It's all thanks to Maga. If I tried to carry that sort of attack… well, you wouldn't need worry about spreading my ashes."

"Even so, I'm glad to know."

"Whazzat?"

"I can give you a  _much_  harder beating for hiding that letter from me!" Tobi gaped and stepped back. Lu enjoyed the expression. "You better go get your time in with Maga before I make you into soil!"

A tear leaked from Tobi's eye. He wiped it away unceremoniously. "T-Thanks," he breathed. He ran off, to a tent at the edge of the outpost. I.E followed his footsteps with a succinct bitterness.

"I wonder how he would feel," I.E muttered, "if I wooed that mienshao of his. Stole him away like he did to Missan."

Lu covered her mouth to stop a laugh. " _Woo_  Maga?! I.E that's strange! N-Not that I have a, uh, problem." Allworthy rolled his eyes; he didn't expect this sort of blindness, considering Lu's actions in the schoolhouse. Paws, her dad, definitely budget hunting time and learning time unevenly.

I.E opened his mouth to explain. "Do you not know that they..." he sighed, letting it go. "whatever forget I brought it up. After the business today, I hope you see that we must go direct to Roake. With your instruction, we can establish teams of capable Sents who will carry out the same feats you did here."

"And the instruction of Tobi and Maga," Lu added. "The Bonecrusher was far bigger than my first Punishment – and Girrup."

"...I can't object to your bringing them along, can I?" Lu nodded. "Okay. W-Well, I plan to abandon the outpost. Our population will go East with you, to Sunstarch. We have docks under our command, and boats willing to ignore any embargoes from Atlas. It would have been good to study this unique occurrence. But, alas, it's too dangerous to stay here."

"Now wait a moment," Allworthy growled. "I just offered protection for your members."

I.E bowed his head. "After what happened before," he breathed, incredulous. "How dare you? As far as I'm concerned, you  _created_  a Punishment."

"Then the least you can do is take the last of my troop. They're young, they need Sents like Lu."

"Again… how dare you? I saw your former troop in control of your former right-hand. They were irredeemable-"

Lu had enough. "Stop it!" She barked. I.E jumped to attention. "Allworthy, are you trustworthy  _now?_ "

"After fixing one mistake, all I can think about is fixing more of them," the herdier replied. "Nasfereet and I will stay behind and claim the area. We'll protect this outpost and make a troop out of Sents who might be capable of developing stolthet. I, well, coached Armstrong one direction, so how hard could the other be? Then, with some relay from your end after you learn more... Orchidia will have a Punishment-clearing team right in its center ready to go. Please, I.E. Give me a chance."

"See?! I.E, you dredge up the past too often because you live in it."

The mightyena nodded, then remained silent as Lu sorted out the details. He spoke only once more, to say that he wanted Sobrewright and Leopold to attend their journey to Sunstarch. Sobre was too important an adviser to leave behind – Missan kept him close for a reason – and Leopold would be necessary for dealing with the ailments that accompanied a journey of this size. Then he shut up again, too stunned to do anything other than nod.

Allworthy gave Lu a final thank you and went to tell the weavile the good news. Lu declared, honestly, that she was close to fainting.

"See you tomorrow!" She said.

I.E watched her go.

"Lu, you're something else," he said to himself. "There's no doubt about it – you really are Brazen's kid..."

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

"There's naught I can say then?" Basil asked, squeezing the charmander till he wheezed. "To make you stay at home?"

"N-No," he gasped. "They'll need me in Roake. Missan said I outranked a lot of their senior welders. If she saw me today..."

He remembered how comforting the kadabra had been. Compared to his den mother, Missan came to be the mother he imagined when he closed his eyes and daydreamed. Holding him, teaching him. Somewhere in the Unending Hunt, he hoped she knew how he improved. That he had Basil, his gigantic sibling, and Maga, one of the most dangerous creatures in Orchidia, both willing to help him change the world.

"You're crying. You're just a kit..."

Before, Bleak imagined he might debate that. Now, however, he hung his head. "Yeah," he conceded. "I am..Still! Basil, when I saw the rat in the irrigation, I thought I understood how easy it is for Arceus to kill us. What I really saw, however, is that we don't get to choose when the time comes."

"The time to die. Bleak, what-"

"No, the time to fight back. Don't know about you, but if I was to struggle in an irrigation pipe… I'd want it steamy as a sauna! I'd want strong legs and a good chest full of air!"

The zangoose understood. She set him down, smiling. "Me, I want to drown in chicken soup broth."

Bleak chuckled. "Yeah. The point is, my time's come early. There will come the day I beg the contract for my life back. For now? I gotta do my best." He walked over towards the tent flap, placing a claw on an opened part of its fold. "I've got some business to take care of. I'll find you when I'm done."

Basil nodded and returned to her group of Punishers. They were having an abnormal amount of trouble pitching a tent. Bleak peeled open Maga's tent.

And fell back, yelping. Some piece of medical equipment, left over from the morning, flew by his head. It crashed into the ground outside, rolling to a stop.

"Maga!" Tobi chastised. "A little brutal, you think?" He scooted away from the mienshao, giving Bleak a sorry smile. Behind that smile, Tobi looked like the happiest Sent in Pokéterra. In fact, his happiness filled Bleak with a sort of envy. He wondered how long he'd wait for his time to feel so strongly, clutching at fur through the floorboards like Maga. Right now, his determination was simple. He bet that determination like his soon became passion.

"No, no, you don't understand," Maga replied. "This pest is the bane of my existence. He went on about 'owning' me earlier."

"That aside, I had some bad news."

"If you're talking about my 'condition', Tobi guessed it. If it wasn't for those psychics, I'd have doggy-paddled to him, damn it."

Tobi waved. "No need to worry. He'll, uh, cooperate."

"That isn't the news I mean." Bleak revealed the contract in his claw. "I need you to make sense of it for me. From what I saw… it's' sickening. I received a vision when I stabbed the Bonecrusher. Something hideous, from your home. Give me your arms – I'll show you."

Maga pointed at it and snarled. " _And that,"_  he growled. "I've been stabbed by that thing about a hundred times today."

"...What's in this  _vision_?" Tobi asked.

Bleak took in a deep breath. "Short summary: the Bonecrusher kills Duke Willard."

"Duke Willard's alive and well." Even so, Tobi held up his paw. "Don't worry, Maga, I'll go on the magical journey this time."

Maga shook his head and put a paw forward. "No way. We should always be on the same page. Even if it means tweaking out with a two-year-old."

"I'm  _six_ ," he said, preparing the vision.

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

 _One year ago_.

He told me to wait behind the door. I tried to tell him that I'm a big feller, so I make a big smell. But he claimed that the old bastard lost his sense of smell years ago. I know it's safe to trust his judgment. My old pa didn't appreciate me for anything. Gretsky, he's a young lad, but he  _understood_. Took me out of that judgment chamber, sent old pa away, and gave me hours of praise. Told me to describe how I got it.

I felt good, so in turn, I ought to make Gretsky feel good. And his pa makes him feel  _bad._  I look through the crack in the door. The scene is hard to understand, even so the crack is wide enough for me to see everything important. I see an awful thing. Why, it's as bad as my pa. Or maybe worse.

"You know why I summoned you?" The old Duke Willard says. He's a crusty, angry creature – hard to imagine that anyone ever respected the old coot.

Gretsky shifts about. "Father, may we not do this tonight? I feel ill. The illusion might be off and you'll be offended." I can tell Gretsky doesn't object often. He's doing it for my sake, to see what a twisted geezer his father is.

"Damn you, child! Just do the transformation!" Awful. Plain awful.

The way he lets out a large sigh, I think the zoroark might have lungs as big as mine. Then he gets to the transformation.

Is that…?

Ain't that the Duke's other kid? The orange one? Golden, whatever?

Well, I know now he lied about his illusions for sure. He looks just like prince Tobi! I can't comprehend why a father chooses to have one kid pretend to be another. Then it occurs to me: Duke Willard loves his kits unevenly. A despicable crime to all parties.

Gretsky-now-Tobi comes forward. His voice mimics the prince's now, I think, because it's different. "Hey, father," he says, trying to sound all aloof.

"Oh, oh, Tobi. There you are. Are you planning to take over soon?"

"Yes, father. I'll make sure everyone stays happy."

"Please, Tobi, is Maga with you? He will help you rule?"

Gretsky-now-Maga arrived on the scene, taking Tobi's place. "No one will ever harm him. Together, we can keep the peace!"

Five years, Gretsky told me. Five years the bastard has made his own flesh and blood play make-believe.

Duke Willard laughed gleefully. "Do Tobi again." Gretsky does. "Yes, yes, Orchidia is saved!"

The poor zoroark shook like a leaf. Then, he too starts to laugh. I start to laugh. He reverts back to his right self, and I like it that way. "Do you understand now?" He calls back to me. "Your boosheid exists to slaughter unfit Sents like my father. Don't worry about retaliation: the psychics in charge of curing his 'disease' are not too, well,  _motivated_!" The statements puts the sick zoroark into a panic. He struggles, yet Gretksy holds him down with ease.

"What is the meaning of this?!" He asks as I step in. "That rhydon is supposed to be locked away! Unhand me, son!"

" _NOW I'M YOUR SON."_

Gretsky takes a deep breath. Not since Allworthy jumped me, declared that I'm a mistake, have I been scared. But that little outburst scares me. Then it excites me. That's the sort of power I can have if I follow him, right? With it, I might... "look, father. I've been the one in charge. Wonder why problems have been so scarce the last few years?" A transformation. Gretsky-now-his-dad smiles. "I've been driving your work into the ground. Got to tear the foundations down before stronger ones may be built."

"I agree!" I say.

"Good. Please..."

Gretsky's silent. Ain't he gonna ask me to kill his dad?

"Put him in the dungeon – no! K… Kill him. Like I asked before."

Duke Willard slumps over in his padded recliner. No surprise. Still, he looks me in the eye, so I respect him very slightly more. When he wants to get some last words in, I allow it. He turns over to the kid he hates or just doesn't love enough. "Gretsky, don't fret. This is my own fault."

Gretsky growls. "Shut up, I know that!"

"You don't understand. All my life, I tried to do the right thing. In the end, however, I am a corrupt creature with corrupt progeny. My love was always finite. After all these years of good will, I must admit… I had the sense to know you don't share my desire to do good. And, after all these years of good will… I… have no love left to share with you, my devil of a son."

"Kill him!" He shrieks. "Kill him right now, crush him!"

I do. I crush his bones.

~~~PUNISHMENTS~~~

Maga sat back, stunned. "Gretsky," he stated, testing out the name.

"Looks like it," Tobi said. His ears were pinned to his head.

"So when we… separated..."

"Gretsky eavesdropped on Duke Willard's advice to you – that he'd call a fight to show my refusal. Then he posed as his father and goaded you into acting completely contrary to those promises." Maga clenched his paws. "That little bitch. I'm going to slaughter him! I'm going to rip him apart! That little weasel!" He slammed the ground, tearing the bottom fabric of the tent.

Tobi, on the other hand, was still too stunned to be mad. "Arceus. What does this mean? W-W-Why did Duke Willard make his son pretend to be us?"

"Odds are," Bleak answered, "your third sibling discovered a way to transform Sents into Punishments. For the rest, it's as Willard said. He knew his son had nothing but ill will. Yet he lacked the callousness to have him killed… so he adopted you two, and fantasized about the day you stepped up as Dukes in place of his son. For all that talk about losing his love, it seems-"

"Please, Bleak. Maga and I need to be alone." The sun was setting. The light inside of the tent became scarce.

After the charmander made his exit, likely to tell anyone still awake about his findings, Maga and Tobi sat together in silence. Neither of them knew what to say – after so many years apart, wondering what the other thought, or how the other was… the ending seemed too perfect. Both held onto that inkling of suspicion from years ago: as if at any moment, their partner might choose to strike like Maga did in the Granite Hall.

Tobi sat there until he decided that feeling needed to leave.

"I'm leaving to Roake, with Lu. If not because I owe here my life ten times over, then because I need to get to the bottom of what we saw."

"Right," Maga said. He smiled shyly. "I think I'm headed that way too, anyway. After what I did to that kid, and after figuring out what those psychics did to me? We've both racked up a lot of debts."

"It's funny."

"Hm?"

"We both owe each other nothing right now. We might as well be strangers, in that case!" Tobi watched as the mienshao mulled over the words. "Seeing the truth, just now, about Duke Willard – it put things into perspective. There are all these… Sents on good paths, yet we can't tell because of a few foul things. And vice versa. We could never have guessed the full extent of who Duke Willard was, where he wanted to go, what kind of Sent he chose to be in his head. I bet in one lifetime, you only get a few chances to see it all…  _laid out_ , free of distractions. I know who Lu is, for example. The absolute image. When life makes her trip up – trust me, it made her trip up earlier – I can deal with those doubtful moments. Nothing exists that could make me doubt that she'd fight to the death for a single life. I'll stand by her side through any punishments for slipping up, because on the other side I am  _certain_  the Lu I know will be there waiting."

"I… what does that have to do with being strangers..."

"As far as I'm concerned, in this moment, we've served our time for past mistakes. So before we set out to make some more, I'm going to show you who'll be waiting at the other side, no matter what happens. R-Right now."

Maga sat up. "How will you do that?"

The tent began to darken as the last light seeped out. "By keeping a promise."

Tobi pulled the dancer in close for a kiss.

~~~PUNISHMENT~~~

A frail doe staggered into the icy clearing. Everything was dead here as well, as she expected. The thin trace of carrion reached her dry nose: it might be meat, and it might be rotten, and it might be the carcass of another deer, but it meant trekking through the frozen forest for one more day. All she knew was survival, all her instincts screamed for survival at any cost.

As she stumbled forward, doubting each step, a new smell greeted her. She snorted and gave the clearing a second look-over.

This clearing wasn't dead. One bilberry shrub, maybe more, were very much alive. The expectation to find nothing made this a total shock for the animal. For a moment, her quick mind had no idea what to do with the emergence.

The temptation of the food put her into an awkward trot. She bounded forward, with so much momentum she needed to plant her feet into a mound of snow just to stop. And, since the clearing surprised her once, it could do so a second time.

She brayed and panicked. A Sent was in the snow, and her hooves had hit it! What other reason could explain a carcass in the middle of this barren forest than the presence of a predator?

But it didn't leap out at her. This mound was made for the departed. The red, bug-like creature was dead. Its blood was still wet, and it seeped through the snow – into the soil. It died from some blow to the head. She confirmed its death by reading the expression on its face. For some reason… a foreign thought occurred to the doe… that the creature had a welcoming smell. The doe leaned down for a sniff, tracing the soil up to the berries. By that time it forgot the strange thought.

She stretched her neck over the body and got her fill.

**THE END.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING Author's spiel ahead:
> 
> Wow. I can't even believe I reached this point - when it comes to writing fanfiction, the last story I finished was over three years ago (in fact, many of the character names are from that story!). Since then, it's been a struggle to make it past chapter three ever since. Not exactly sure of everything that got me to this point, but I know two key things:
> 
> The readers, followers, favorite(rs?), and reviewers: thank you so much for your support! Even if you are a silent reader, and want to stay that way, know that just seeing the visitor count rise gives me the idea that someone out there is getting some value out of my writing. You've done me a great favor by reading, and hopefully you feel I've given back something here in these, say, 90,000 words. Again, thank you so much.
> 
> The subject matter (SORTA announcement at the end): Something important to continuing a story is, well, liking what you write. And I liked where this plot led. This story surprised me sometimes, and I was the one writing it! Some parts I thought to be minor became huge - here's looking at Nasfereet. And other parts became flat-out different - fun fact: Nasfereet's development might have (did) save Allworthy's life. I planned to kill him off in this chapter, actually, but it would undermine all the time I ended up spending on them! And still, some parts shocked me by simply BEING there. I could hardly believe I was writing about Tobi/Maga's relationship... or Lu's 'proposition' to Tobi in particular. Both seemed like giant risks at first. Now? Wouldn't have it any other way, and I plan to develop both in the next part of this story.
> 
> Which, even so I'm marking this story as complete for now, will come. I plan to add a summary for the next part soon, and the next chapter in a couple weeks (hopefully less!) So, I guess what I'm saying is: be on the lookout for
> 
> PUNISHMENTS: EASTWARD
> 
> thanks, thanks, and thanks again,
> 
> Consarn
> 
> P.S: Allworthy thinks Frig is cooler :)


End file.
